Romance of the Four Nations, Book 1
by kangaroo2010
Summary: A banished prince, a chief's daughter, a teenaged Avatar, an heir desperate to regain favor, and more, from soldiers to lords and everyone in between, converge on the city of Gaoling, where none know that the wheels of fate are about to set in motion, with no hint as to where they shall lead. Smoking, drinking, and adult language abound. Let's roll!
1. A Moment of Your Time, if You Please

A VERY SPECIAL AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Note: This might get pedantic. Feel free to skip to the first chapter. I won't mind; honestly.**

Good day, faithful readers! I know that it's not typically the practice for an author to preface their own work with a note, but the only alternative was to have the first couple chapters of this thing be accompanied by massive-ass author's notes, and I was really not on board with that. In my last major project, _Wild, Wild Love_ (yes, I did just plug my own story; blow me), I kept the little notes at the end down to a minimum, and several readers seemed to appreciate that. Thus, in pursuit of said lofty goal (what can I say, I aim high), I'm going to lay down a few things before you get started.

First of all, thanks for stopping by! I really hope you stay with me for the entire ride, because I'm pretty excited about this project, and I think it'll be worth your time. Updates might become occasionally sporadic, due to my starting a new job (fingers crossed!), as well as the holidays and the fact that, in agreement with my wife, I have to alternate between this and an original work. So…not sure where that was going…

Right! The fic itself! Basically, this started as a random plot bunny, and then became a literary experiment. The idea, essentially, can be summed up as: _What if Zuko, instead of being exiled, was sent into the Army? _This, by the way, is a classic way for royal families to get rid of unwanted and embarrassing members, the hope being that they'll either redeem themselves or, at the very least, get themselves killed in a prompt, timely manner. For the kernel of this idea, I must thank the incredibly talented AvocadoLove for their story, _The Problem with Zuko._

From there, I began fiddling (it was basically something I scrawled in margins when I needed a break from my very intense, often depressing original project), and the idea grew. Soon, I began tossing in things from my other stories, and before long, I'd decided, _Fuck it, why not stop being a dick to Canon, and just run with this?_ And that's when _plot bunny_ became full-on _literary experiment._

The end result can be summed up thusly: _What if one were to write a realistic Avatar story, with most of the main characters, and with their personalities and characterizations intact, except for one key thing changed in each person? What would that look like? What would be the end result? Would anyone want to read that? Would __**I **__want to read that?_

And thus, here we are, _The Romance of the Four Nations_ (which is my nod to _Romance of the Three Kingdoms, _whose character sheet I use whenever I need Chinese names for Earth Kingdom OCs). In this world, a lot of things are the same, but some interesting things are different. For example, Zuko is not the heir to the throne; without getting into things you'll be reading, Lu Ten's still alive (only his name is Yoshihito now, because I never liked the name _Lu Ten_, and any time Lu Ten is in a fic, he's basically an OC anyways, so why keep a name I don't like), and Iroh's Fire Lord. Ozai's still a dick, though, and Zuko still gets scarred, but, because Iroh's nicer than Ozai, Zuko gets sent into the Army, which is fighting a low-intensity war in an occupied Earth Kingdom. As a junior officer, he goes to the front lines. He's still basically the same guy from Canon, in that he's still mentally and emotionally marked by his childhood and upbringing, has some pretty intense insecurities, and whatnot. _However_, being in the Army is all he ever wanted to do (he didn't feel he had much else use, being a spare prince), so, he's basically an _unconflicted Zuko._ He's right where he wants to be, doing what he wants to do, with the same kind of courage, willpower, and intensity that he brings to everything.

See? Suddenly, we have a whole new story, _right fucking there._ And that's basically how this is going to work. Everyone's the same, _only not._ What if Sokka was just a bit less oblivious and a bit more devious? What if Katara was suffering a major crisis of faith in her mission to guide and protect the Avatar, and in the very _idea_ of the Avatar? What if Azula wasn't crazy, and was also a good sister? What if Toph's parents were a bit more supportive, and not so weird?

_Also, yes, there will be Zutara. Sorry. We all have our problems._

And, finally, what if a story finally asked the question we often avoid (though I'm sure there're probably hundreds of fics that ask this question):

_Why an Avatar?_

Intrigued? I hope you are. I know I am.

A final few notes (almost done, I promise): For one, this fic will _not_ be told in first person. My original work requires third-person limited, and I used this story as practice, and it works. Thus, we'll be spending time in everyone's heads. Second, the idea of the different nations speaking different languages will be carried over from _Wild, Wild Love_, only it'll matter more, and be more important than my little hard-on for language trivia. Also, I won't be using much in the way of Google Translate, no matter how much it amused a native speaker of Finnish in the last fic. Here's a cheat-sheet:

Fire Nation = Nihongo (Japanese)

Water Tribes = Inuktitut (Inuit languages)

Air Nomads = Gorkhali (Nepali)

Earth Kingdom = This…is actually complicated, because the Earth Kingdom is like China, in that there is more than one language. The two big ones to know for the story are Guangzhou (Cantonese) and Putonghua (Mandarin).

And that…just about covers it. If you actually read this…well…I'm very sorry. Hopefully I didn't spoil anything for you. And if you didn't, and are just coming back at the end…I hope you enjoyed the show!

And speaking of the show…we should probably get on with it!

_Somewhere, in the wilds of the Occupied Earth Kingdom, a year-and-a-half before the main narratives begins, a young woman, very far from home, walks out of the forest, and into a small Fire Nation Army camp…_

PS – Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!


	2. Prologue

PROLOGUE

_Somewhere in the Earth Kingdom, eighteen months ago…_

HER MIND WAS REELING. A lot of that, she had no doubt, was due to the change in her surroundings. She was settled on a coarse blanket, stretched out over well-trodden grass. She looked around, took in the spare surroundings, the bedroll, the low table, the way everything was arranged and set out and carefully maintained, the way every inch of the space screamed, _A soldier lives here._ Even the snatches of Nihongo, a language she did not understand, that filtered in through the canvas walls of the tent had a clipped, staccato beat to them, like drums sounding assembly. She closed her eyes, listened to the clank and the clatter, the boots stomping in time, the barked orders and the barked responses. She smelled polish and dirt and well-worn leather, sweat and crackling campfires and plain campaign food. She had arrived not long before lunchtime, and could easily imagine a dozen little fires, soldiers slipping off helmets and crouching down to dig chopsticks into bowls of broth. Her stomach rumbled, and she frowned. She realized with a shock that she had not eaten all day; she should have before she left, but she had been much too nervous.

Yes, it was a change. This morning, she had woken in the midst of a gathering of self-styled _rebels_ one step away from barbarism. Now? Now, she was smack dab in the middle of a camp of Fire Nation soldiers, which wasn't even the strangest part.

No, the strangest part was that she had _chosen_ to be here.

A new sound penetrated to her. She heard boots in the dirt and the grass, a soldier snapping to attention, a softly spoken order, the reply, just as soft, just as clipped, then the tent flap opened and closed and the tent was filled with the smell of food and tea and she smiled, smiled because the boy who had entered was the _other_ reason her mind was reeling.

She opened her eyes, just in time to see the boy stop in front of her. She took him in, running her eyes up and down him. He was tall, easily as tall as her brother, if not taller, though he seemed a bit on the thin side. He had black hair just long enough to be pulled back in a soldier's short, unadorned topknot. He wore his plain armor well, and a sword (of a type she had learned was called a _katana_, which all Fire Nation officers wore) hung at his left hip. Finally, her eyes came up to his face, and it was very hard not to smile. Sure, his left eye was milky white and dead, buried in a mass of scar tissue that covered much of the left side of his face, but the rest…well…

_An image. Back home, six months before. It's the middle of the day, calm and cool, and the house is filled with the smell of dinner being prepared. She works in the kitchen, bustling about with her mother, while Gran-Gran makes knitting needles clack from atop her stool in a corner. Her mother is very worked up, very nervous. How could she not be? Her children were leaving in only a week's time, leaving, and only the gods knew when they would be back._

_ The girl knew all of this, and understood it. She was twenty, after all, hardly a child. That didn't change the fact that she really wished her mother would stop talking about boys._

_ "And one more thing," Mother was saying, "you watch out for soldiers. The Earth Kingdom is awash with soldiers, and they're not like us, they're not warriors. They're different. They're bored and lonely and they're not to be trusted."_

_ "None of them?" she had asked, not really paying attention._

_ "None of them," Mother had affirmed._

_ She had sighed, stirring the sea prune soup, until a mischievous urge had come over her. Her lips quirking up into a ghost of a smile, she tossed her mother a look and a wink and said, her voice not at all serious, "Not even the nice, handsome ones?"_

_ At that, Gran-Gran had burst into laughter, while Mother shot them both ugly looks, huffed, and said, "__**Especially**__ them."_

She couldn't help but smile, because the young man before her was _quite_ handsome, and she felt no shame in admitting it to herself.

The young man, meanwhile, seemed a bit lost and a bit confused. He smiled at her, then seemed to think better of it, before looking over her head and nodding. A soldier appeared, laying out two steaming bowls of some kind of delicious smelling broth in which floated long, thick noodles, chopsticks, a loaf of bread, tea cups, and a tea kettle. Finished, the soldier turned to his scarred superior, bowed, said something. To that, the scarred young man bowed back, said something in reply, to which the soldier replied by bowing _again_ (at which point the young woman found it _very_ hard not to laugh; the amount of bowing required by the Fire Nation to accomplish, well, _anything_, was downright absurd), saying what sounded like, _Yes, sir_, then turned on his heel and made his exit.

That left just a young woman and a young man, staring at each one, one sitting, one standing.

She watched with barely concealed amusement as the young man began to look progressively more uncomfortable. He took a deep breath, let it out, started to reach for the back of his neck, before frowning and pulling the hand away, shooting it a look like it was alive and possessed with a malicious spirit. He gave himself a shake, cleared his throat, opened his mouth, closed it, then, finally, as if sensing that the young woman before him was on the verge of bursting into hysterics, said, in a deep, educated voice, "So, I believe you wanted to see the senior officer. I'm afraid most of the company is out on patrol, including the company commander, but, that said...um…are you alright?"

She blinked, her mind blank. _Did he…but…what…? _She continued blinking, completely confused. When she had arrived at the camp, she had used her few words of Putonghua to ask the sentries to take her to their superior officer. The soldiers had seemed reluctant, but she had pressed, and after searching her for weapons (_obviously not realizing that she needed only a cup of water_), had escorted her into the camp. There, one of them had spoken to a frightening looking man with a voice like crushed gravel, who had taken her up to the young man before her, who was going over some papers of some kind. She had seen him from the right at first, and that was the only way she saw him, for just long enough to find the scar, while a bit disorienting at first, not nearly enough to ruin her first impression. The officer had spoken with the man beside her (_obviously a sergeant of some sort_), had looked up and down, and, when she threw him a smile, blushed bright red and muttered and flustered before giving himself a shake and rattling off a string of orders.

Which was how they came to be here, him with a strange ghost of a grin on his face, and her, sitting, reeling from the fact that he had just spoken in near-perfect Inuktitut.

Now, she saw, it was her turn to be flustered. _I hope you're enjoying this_, she thought, feeling a bit put out. After all, she was the woman here; it was _her_ job to fluster, not be flus-_tered._ And just because some boy who happened to look _very_ good in a uniform spoke her-

_Nevermind._ "I…uh…" She blinked, swallowed, tried again. "Um…you speak Inuktitut?"

He smiled, his face adopting an expression that she found _far_ too triumphant for her tastes. "I do, quite fluently." His face fell, and suddenly he was insecure and flustered again, which filled her with a sense of peace and calm. "I apologize for the accent and the way things come out. I'm a bit rusty, and my tutor was from the North, so…"

_Ah, that explains why you sound like you have a cold. _She sighed. _Well, no one's perfect._ "It's quite alright," she replied, shrugging, her equilibrium returning to her. "I understand just fine, and besides, I like the sound of your voice."

His eyes (_or, rather, __**eye**__, since the other one didn't do much_) flew wide, and his mouth dropped open. It took a moment, but then her face suddenly felt as if it was on fire and her hand flew to her mouth and she wanted nothing more than to die right then and there. She suddenly wished that she had let her brother be the one to come here; the only reason he hadn't was because he was terrible at any language skill that couldn't get him fed or laid, and so she had gone. _Had I known that the officer here spoke Inuktitut…_

She gave herself a shake. _Nevermind. Focus, girl, __**focus.**_ "I…um…sorry…heh…what I meant was…"

He waved the apology aside. "Don't worry about it; it's quite alright." He took a deep breath, let it out, cleared his throat, then, drawing himself up, gave a deep bow. "For the record, I _am_ the senior-most officer currently present." He rose from the bow, and smiled. "My name is Tokugawa Zuko, Lieutenant, First Grade, of His Royal Majesty's Army."

She returned the smile, which she found distressingly easy to do. Bowing her head, she said, "Well, a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Zuko. I'm Katara, daughter of Hakoda, of the Yuupik Clan of the Southern Water Tribes."

He swallowed a quick, soft chuckle, before schooling his features into calm and obviously hoping she hadn't noticed (_which she had, and she was well aware of what her mistake was; Fire Nation names were reversed, in that family names came first, so that the proper address was __**Lieutenant Tokugawa**_). He waved a hand, encompassing the food. "Well, now that _that's_ out of the way, shall we eat?"

She giggled. "Honestly, I thought you'd never ask. I'm _starving._"

He laughed as he settled himself down on the ground, maneuvering his _katana_ so that he wouldn't sit on it in a way that she could see was obviously second-nature to him. "Well, in that case, let's eat!"

The food, she discovered, was plain, but hearty, filling, and not at all unpleasant. She wasn't sure she'd want to eat such fare _all day, every day_, but it had been a long time since her mother had cooked her a decent meal. The tea, too, was very plain, black, soldier's tea, designed to be made quickly and easily. She didn't like it, but she didn't dislike it, either, though she definitely appreciated how strong it was. Her first sip actually made her cough a little bit, and made her feel a bit flush and light-headed as the strength hit her.

The young man (_Zuko, girl, his name is __**Zuko**_) chuckled. "Yeah, sorry about that. All we have is the tea we get issued; it takes some getting used to."

She sputtered a bit, quickly tearing off a piece of bread to soften the taste. "I can imagine! I bet you don't even notice it anymore."

He shrugged. "Honestly? I can't even _taste_ decent tea these days. Two-and-a-half-years I've been in the Army, and that's all I've had, all day, every day."

She frowned, swallowing her bite of bread. "But…you're an officer…"

He nodded, swallowing some of the long, thick noodles from the broth. "I am."

She did some calculations in her head. "And, from your voice, noble-born as well."

He laughed. "Oh, one could call me that, I suppose."

She popped an eyebrow, feeling very intrigued, something she recognized immediately as _incredibly _dangerous. "Oh? How do you mean?"

He threw her a wink, whose effect was not at all ruined by the fact that he had only one eye to work with. "We'll save that for later. Point is, you were about to ask me why I don't get sent care packages from home with the good stuff, like every other noble-born officer in the military."

She nodded. "Pretty much, yes."

She was prepared for a lot of things, but not for the change that came over his face. She had rather liked what she saw before her, a boy who was a bit awkward around girls, but whose eye made very clear that he had a good heart. Suddenly, though, the eye went dark and cold, until, for all of its golden shine, it seemed as dead as the left one. His face went slack, his shoulders slumped, and he looked away.

One didn't need to be a genius to see through that. _His family packed him off to the Army and forgot about him. How else would such an obviously high-born young man be stuck in a front line infantry unit? _Feeling very cross with herself for pricking at what was obviously an old wound, she leaned forward, and, without really thinking, put a hand on his knee. Some of the life came back into his eye, and he looked, first at the hand, then, his gaze trailing up her arm, finally came to rest on her face. He blinked a few times, before finally smiling and saying, "Um…where were we?"

"Nowhere you don't want to be."

His smile grew wider, and his face came back to life. "_Arigato_, my lady."

She settled back and rolled her eyes. "Oh, _please_, I'm no _lady_, Lieutenant Tokugawa."

He chuckled, snatching up what appeared to be a bottle of hot sauce and dumping what she felt was _far _too much into his food. Stirring it in, he said, "Well, if you're no lady, then I'm no Lieutenant." He took a bite, rolled it around in his mouth, nodded, swallowed. "Zuko will do just fine. After all, it's not like you're under my command."

She couldn't help but tilt her head in amusement. "You know, you're not an average Fire Nation officer, are you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Know many Fire Nation officers?"

She shook her head. "Actually, I make a habit of avoiding them."

He popped an eyebrow. "And yet, here you are."

She sighed, took a final bite of food. "Yes, here I am…" _I guess it's time to stop flirting and get to business._ It was hard not to laugh. _Oh, if only Sokka could see me now._ She set the bowl down, straightened her back, brushed out some nonexistent wrinkles in her skirts. Finally feeling settled, she looked the boy named Zuko right in the eye and said, "Before I tell you what I came here to tell you, there are a few questions I have to ask you."

He nodded, the awkward boy disappearing as the veteran officer took his place. It was not a switch she particularly enjoyed seeing, but it was, sadly, necessary. He set his bowl down, nodded, and said, "Very well."

She took a calming breath, let it out. Her heart began to thump madly in her chest. Every fiber of her being told her to get up, walk out. Somehow, she knew that she would not be stopped. Somehow, deep in the depths of her soul, she knew this young man would not harm her or hinder her. She had eaten his food, been honest, sincere, and polite. That was enough for him. She knew this, just as she knew, somehow, that no matter what her head told her, her heart was right.

_Only one way to find out._

"What," she said, speaking softly, choosing her words very carefully, "do you know about the Avatar?"

His head went up, slowly came down, a strange, emphatic sort of nod. He seemed just as aware of the importance of this discussion as she was. This comforted her, for reasons she couldn't quite explain.

"Only what's been officially released," he replied, his voice dropping down just as low as hers. "That the Avatar who lingered in a coma for so long passed away some time ago, and that the new Avatar has been discovered, and has disappeared from their home in the South. Rumor has it," he continued, his good eye fixing her with a curious stare, "that the Avatar is a girl, and is somewhere in the Earth Kingdom, though nobody knows where or how she got there, or where she's going."

Katara swallowed, almost a gulp, really.

"Then you know that she's being hunted, by the Crown Prince himself."

For a second, something flashed across his face, so fast she almost missed it. Even when she was sure what had happened, she didn't know quite what to make of what she had seen. It was almost as if, for second, he had been…

_Disgusted…_

"Yes, well," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of Army-issue cigarettes, "that's the story, at least." He shook out a cigarette, offered the pack to her. "Care for one?"

She shook her head, not because she didn't want one, but because she was too nervous to smoke. He nodded, replaced the pack, and lit his cigarette with a snap of his fingers. He took a long, meditative pull, sighed, then said, "What are you asking, if I might be so bold?"

One more calming breath. "I'm asking…I suppose…what would you do if the Avatar was within your grasp?"

The laugh caught her by surprise, almost as much as what he said and how he said it. He visibly relaxed, a smile stealing across his face, and when he spoke, his voice had returned to normal, no longer hushed.

"Honestly? I'd let her or him or whomever walk right back out of said grasp, and do my best to forget they were ever there."

She blinked, knowing that she looked like a fish out of water, and not in the least bit caring. "Come again?"

Another laugh, a low, almost bitter chuckle. The smile grew wider, and her fear began to ebb away of its own accord.

"Because, to be honest, if I caught the Avatar? It would be a death sentence. I wouldn't live out the year." He shook his head, waving a hand through the air as if to dismiss the very idea. "My whole purpose in life is to serve my country, even though I may never see that country again. Catching the Avatar would not only not change that, but would make sure my service comes to a swift and painful end. So, no, I have no interest in the Avatar, whomever and wherever they may be. Now," he continued, leaning forward, face suddenly earnest and grave, "what I am interested in, is a young man, somewhere in these woods. A thug, a murderer, a thief, a brigand, a rapist, a fiend. My boys and I have a very serious, very personal bone to pick with this young man."

She felt a smile pricking at her lips. "And what would this young man's name be…?"

For a moment, his smile turned cold, and he looked remarkably like a wolf on the hunt. "His name, Friend Katara, is Doihara Kenji, a half-breed deserter. You, though, I think, might know him by another name."

She felt his smile become copied in her own. "It wouldn't happen to be Jet, would it?"

He nodded, slow and sure. "These days, at least." He took another drag on his cigarette, tapped the ash onto a sliver of exposed grass. "You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

She arched an eyebrow, and noticed her heart had not in the least slowed down. "And if I did?"

He leaned back, still smiling, though a gleam had slipped into his eye, a gleam that she could not help but notice. "Then, I think that you and I have some things to discuss."

"Perhaps."

It was right then that she decided it was okay to like Lieutenant Tokugawa Zuko.

* * *

I'm on a time budget this morning, but I really wanted to share some of this with you guys today. Think of it as a Christmas/New Year's present. I'll be in Mexico until January 3rd, but, if you love me, you'll leave me plenty of ego boosters to read when I get back! So, sit back, have a drink (of your choosing), enjoy, and have fun!

PS – If you don't like it, please tell me! I can fix shit before I start posting the rest upon my return!

PPS – If anyone knows anything fun to do in Monterrey, Mexico, let me know!

* * *

PPPS - There's an edit in here; Katara's age has been changed to 20; in the main story, she's 22, the same as Zuko. This just worked for me, and it was also kind of the first little step on the road to not worrying so much about Canon anymore. As for everyone else's age: Sokka will be 24, Azula/Mai/Ty Lee are 20, Korra's 15, and Toph, when she appears, will be about 16. I don't know _why_ it matters for me joss things like that, but it does. Make of that what you will.


	3. ZUKO I

ZUKO

_The present day, eighteen months later…_

THAT NIGHT, HE HAD A STRANGE DREAM.

It didn't start out that way. If anything, it started out completely normal, just like the dozen or so times he'd had it over the past four years. In it, it's his last day in hospital. It's early in the morning, autumn. The windows are open, and it's very cool. A light, fresh breeze makes the curtains whisper in the quiet. Around him, the hospital buzzes slowly into life. He doesn't notice, though. He's a bit busy.

He's at the mirror, dressing his wound. The left side of his face is beginning to heal, beginning to turn into the scar he can no longer picture himself without, but it's still an ugly, rather horrid mess. He leans very close to the mirror, constantly having to change his perspective so his right eye, his _good eye_, can see what he's doing. With deft, well-versed movements, he dresses his wound. Very carefully, he cleans it, then he begins to apply the ointment that the doctors insist he use. When he's done with that, he will take the fresh gauze and bandages and wrap it all around his face, though he's a bit lost as to why it matters now. The damage has been done; how much worse could it get?

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. In the dream, it echoes like a drop of water in an empty pail. Without turning to look (the door is to his left, on his blind side), he says, in a voice he tries hard to keep free from irritation, _It's alright, Reiko. Like I said, I can do this myself, and for the last time, no, I won't take any pain medication with me._

But it's not Reiko; no, it's that horrid man who is forever in his cousin's shadow, the horrid man with eyes empty and cold who says his name is _Kojima_. Zuko uses this name, for lack of anything more polite, but he doesn't believe it for a second.

The man bows. Zuko, confused, bows back. The man announces the arrival of _your royal cousin, His Royal Highness Crown Prince Yoshihito_, in a voice dripping with disdain. Not for the first time, Zuko wonders if that voice is for him, or for the man's master.

_Maybe both…_

And then his cousin is there. His cousin, resplendent in the finest silks, finely honed features sporting that carefully maintained goatee and all of it topped off with the royal phoenix tail that Zuko is no longer either obligated nor allowed to wear. There is an awkward pause, when his cousin enters the room and Zuko does not bow, but merely glares, standing at attention like the soldier he is soon to be. In the dream, the pause is very short, which Zuko always finds odd, because in reality, his cousin ended up standing, awkwardly staring, for a good five minutes, waiting for the former prince to bow.

But he did not bow. Zuko did not bow in reality, and he did not bow in the dream.

His cousin begins speaking. The voice, even with the strange echoes and distortions of the dream, perfectly matches the body producing it. The voice is light, exquisitely refined, perfectly at home in the unwieldy court language that turns simple statements like, asking how some is, into monstrosities like, _How art thou, my cousin both noble and royal, on this, a lovely autumn day, in mine father's splendid kingdom?_ The very words make Zuko sick to his stomach, which is why, when he speaks, he uses plain Nihongo, like any person in their right mind do outside of the Throne Room.

It only gets more awkward from there. Even in the dream, Zuko feels the rising tension, the weight of things unsaid, unspoken, unrecalled. His cousin asks after his health, to which Zuko says, _I've been better. _His cousin goes on at length about his own health, to which Zuko replies, _That's nice. _His cousin makes a long, flowery speech about how he is sorry to see Zuko go, and he's sorry things ended up this way, and that he wishes him well, and that, from what he's heard, the Ninety-Fourth Infantry Regiment is a fine, just absolutely _fine_, unit. Phrases like _top-class_ and _tip of the spear_ are used. The top-caliber officers are duly praised.

The latest casualty figures from the Earth Kingdom are not mentioned.

Zuko is never sure how the quarrel begins. In the dream, it's all very confusing. One moment, his cousin is rambling, while Zuko pays not the least bit attention, and then, like a scene change in a poorly staged play, his cousin is demanding to know what is the matter with him. _Did it really happen that way? _Zuko's not sure. Maybe it did; maybe it really was that sudden.

_Maybe my life really is just a poorly staged play…_

That's often the first thing he thinks, when he wakes up from this particular dream. The idea always makes him laugh.

If His Royal Highness Crown Prince Yoshihito was expecting a clear and flowery apology, before being allowed to assuage his guilt, he severely misjudged his audience. Sentence had already been passed. Zuko's life as a royal was over. He would be a soldier until the day he died, the implication being that the sooner that day came, the better for everyone concerned. Sure, he had been horribly wronged by his raging, frustrated drunk of a father, everyone knew that, but, see, there was the image of the Royal Family to consider. _Just consider the __**scandal**__, Zuko_, his mother had carefully explained, dabbing her wet eyes with a handkerchief.

Zuko had considered the scandal, and then he had realized that the worst had happened, and that he had nothing to lose.

So he told his cousin _exactly_ what was the matter.

His cousin had not taken it well. _Look, you can't blame me for all of this_, he sputtered.

Zuko had not backed off an inch. _I absolutely can blame you, Yoshihito._

_ How do you figure that? _his cousin replied, sounding genuinely confused.

_You were supposed to be there. _In the dream, those are the only words that are clear, that sound normal, that do not waver and echo and flutter in a world that seems like it's being viewed through cheap glass. _You were supposed to back me up. You were supposed to stand beside me. You promised. Instead, you left me alone to make my case and face my father's wrath. _

His cousin shuffles his feet, probably feeling embarrassed for the first time in his life. _Well, Zuko, not to put too fine a point on it, but you didn't __**have**__ to go against your father like that._

_ Yes, I did. _He spits out his words, chopping them up like a chef chopping sushi. _Lives were at stake. The honor of the Fire Nation was on the line. It's ideas like the ones my father was proposing that ensure that the people of the Earth Kingdom will __**never**__ submit, no matter how many soldiers we have walking their streets._

His cousin smiled. _Well, that's a bit dramatic, don't you think?_

And, just like that, Zuko is done. He has a uniform to put on, a boat to catch, and two taciturn members of the Royal Guard to make sure he's on it. _Not that I'd miss it for the world. _So, instead of engaging any further, he says, _Cousin? Do me a big favor, and go fuck yourself._

That sets the spark to the kindling. Turning bright red, his cousin raises a finger, steps forward, and says (_in what he no doubt believes to be an ominous fashion_), _What did you say?_

And that's when the dream changes.

In reality, Zuko merely sighed, said, _You heard me, _then went back to dressing his wound. His cousin, obviously under strict instructions from His Majesty Fire Lord Iroh to not make things any worse than they already were, had fumed, stomped his feet, acted remarkably like a small child who's never been told _no_ before, then spun on his heel and left.

In the usual dream, Zuko beat his cousin's ass, joined randomly by his sister, the horrid man Kojima, and half the hospital staff, which was why he normally woke with a smug grin on his face.

This time, though…

_This time…_

A feminine voice replies. It says, sharp as the crack of a whip, _You heard him. Now go fuck yourself, and fuck right the hell off while you're at it._

Zuko rounds on the voice. Standing beside him is the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. He hasn't seen her in a year-and-a-half, but he remembers every feature, every detail, like he just saw her yesterday. She's tall for a girl, thin and curvy, with dark skin and thick, curly, dark brown hair that moves like ripples through the sea when it's caught by the wind. He feels a pressure on his hand, looks down, sees that his fingers are firmly entwined with hers.

When he looks up, his cousin is gone.

_How did you do that? _he asks.

She just smiles, that smile that, even though he only saw it for a week, the mere thought of makes him weak at the knees.

_Just have to be a bit firm with assholes sometimes, you know? _

He smiles back, even though, in reality, an incident later that day would mark the last time he would smile for a good _year_.

_I suppose so_, he says. Then, he frowns, confused. _What're you doing here? What does this mean?_

To that, she giggles, pops up, and kisses him on the cheek.

_Wouldn't you like to know._

That's when reveille blows, and his dream is shattered, scattered like dust in the wind. He opens his eye, looks out on a world shrouded in murky darkness. All around him, the junior officers' barracks comes to life. Young man like himself mutter and curse and sigh, cots made of cheap wood held together by cheap nails and cheap hope groan and squeak like some strange symphony. Floorboards creak and whine underneath bare feet. Backs crack, sparks pop from the tips of fingers and thumbs, the smell of Army-issue tobacco begins to fill the air.

But on Zuko's bunk, nothing happens. He merely frowns at the bottom of the bunk above him, mulls over his dream, decides it turned out alright in the end, and allows himself a smile.


	4. KATARA I

KATARA

SHE FINDS HER BROTHER UP ON THE DECK.

She didn't remember the dream that had woken her up; in fact, she wasn't even entirely sure it was the _dream_ that had done the job. All she knew was that, one moment, she was asleep, and the next, she was awake. She was awake, and sitting up in bed, her hair a tangled mess falling like a heavy weight upon her shoulders and cascading down her back. Stray strands hung over her eyes, tickling her nose. She frowned, puffed them to the side. She rummaged through the bag hanging from the foot of her cot, pulling out a hair tie and pulling her hair from her eyes. She rubbed her eyes, watched as the world shifted from _fuzzy and dark_ to _just dark._

Around her, the world creaks and sways, the only sounds the rhythm and beat of a ship coming to life in the pre-dawn gloom. She closes her eyes, stretches out her awareness. She is trapped in a wooden box, but the further she reaches out, the less that seems to matter. There, just beyond the walls, _right there_, at the edge of her fingertips it seems, her element laps at the hull. She can feel every bit of it, if she tries hard enough. She can feel every drop and every swish and every movement. The sea rushes along, split by the prow, crashing together in the wake, and it feels like it's flowing through her very veins, beating in time with her heart. It's wonderful, _glorious_, even.

Which is when her mind finally notices that her brother's not there.

Her eyes snap open, doing a quick inventory of the room. Everything else is in place. On the cot across the room, Korra is still curled up in a ball, shoulders rising and falling, the tangled covers speaking of bad dreams and the ever-growing doubts that the girl refuses to talk about. All of their stuff is right where it should be, too, from Korra's scattered clothes to her own carefully organized belongings. Even Sokka's boots are there, right where he left them, lying beside his pack. Only…

_Sokka's not anywhere near them…_

_ Sokka's not in his bed…_

Katara sighs. She's concerned, as well as a little bit annoyed, not least because she is not happy with the fact that her brother got up and walked out of the cabin in the middle of the night, and she didn't notice. Normally, she did. Her brother had barely slept a whole night through since the North, since Yue, since…

_Since everything went wrong…_

She shakes the thought away, rising from her bed and wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She stops on the way to the door, leaning over Korra, reaching down to brush some hair from the girl's face. The face itself is blank, at peace. It's often hard for Katara to remember that the girl is only fifteen, and a newly-minted fifteen-year-old at that. But right now? When she's asleep, and not in the throes of some nightmare?

_It's hard to believe she's older than ten…_

Katara sighs. _There she is, the Avatar, all of fifteen-years-old._ The incipient smile dies, and suddenly, all Katara can see is a monster, tall as a mountain, pale and blue, its heart a teenage girl filled with rage, her humanity hidden behind glowing eyes the color of ice.

_The Avatar…_

_ I'd hate her, if I didn't love her so much._

With that, she slipped out the door, closing it gently behind her.


	5. ZUKO II

ZUKO

"HEY, ZUKO. SLEEP WELL?"

Zuko didn't bother to turn to address the speaker, because he knew exactly who it was. Zuko himself was at one of the sinks in the washroom, carefully scraping a razor across his chin. Beside him, as he well knew, was his fellow officer and best friend, going all the way back to the Royal Military Academy. His name was Watanabe Toru. He was in the same platoon as Zuko, and, what with the similar build and similar habits, one could be easily forgiven for ignoring the fact that Toru's features were softer and rounder, and his shoulders broader, and just assuming that the two were, if not brothers, at least cousins.

_Which, who knows_, Zuko thought with a smile, _with the way Fire Nation nobility works, we just might be in some way related. _He didn't say that, though. Instead, he made a pass along the right side of his face, flicked the shaving cream off, and said, "You know, Toru, not that bad, for once. Yourself?"

He didn't need to see the shrug to know it occurred. "Meh. About the same." A pause, and the sensation of a confused frown. "Had the most fucked up dream, though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah…basically, I dreamed that my sister-"

"Which one?"

"Uh…Naoko, I believe." A nod. "Yeah, Naoko." A chuckle, and then, "Not Chieko."

Zuko couldn't help but smile at that. "Ah, Chieko…"

This brought on a light punch to his arm. "Hush, you. Anyways, so, in the dream, Naoko was turned into a monkey."

"No shit?"

"No shit. Basically, she was turned into a monkey, but that was it. And I was the only one who noticed. Everyone else was acting completely normally, and I just kept trying to get people to believe that she'd turned into a talking monkey in a dress."

"That's…" Zuko paused, razor poised, regarding himself in the mirror. His mind fumbled and grasped for a suitable adjective, and found that nothing in any language he knew really seemed to fit. At a loss, he sighed and said, "That's really fucked up, man."

"Heh…I know, right?"

"So, did anything else happen?"

"Nope, that was it. Just a normal day at the family estate – _such as it is _– trying to convince my family that my youngest sister had been turned into a monkey."

Zuko started to smirk, but caught himself before he could mess up the perfectly stilled features necessary to shave. The truth was, the Watanabe estate really wasn't _much of a much_. Toru was the second eldest son of a minor house of Sunset Islands nobility, whose father was, in Toru's own words, _the minor retainer of a minor retainer_, descended from when Fire Lord Meiji, the founder of the Tokugawa dynasty, had ennobled the nation's minor _samurai_ in an effort to tame them and bring the eternal cycle of civil wars to an end. Even for all of that, Zuko had always enjoyed his summers there. It was quiet, peaceful, and, more importantly, far away from the Palace in Miyako and its attendant high society and stuffy court functions.

_Of course_, he thought, _Chieko_ (that being Toru's twin sister) _didn't hurt, either…_

But enough about that. Refocusing on his task, he said, "You know, I had an odd dream, too."

He didn't have to see the hint of a leer in his friend's face to know it was there. "Oh? And was there a pair of big blue eyes in this dream, or is that presuming too much?"

"You know, Toru," he replied, trying to stifle his own smile, "you may think you're _smart shit_, but in reality-"

"Hey, Zuk!"

The unmistakable voice came from Zuko's left, forcing him to crane his neck a bit to allow his good eye to take in the thin, gangly, stick of a freshly-minted eighteen-year-old officer leaning into the washroom. Sure enough, there was Mishima Ryu, another of Zuko's fellow platoon commanders from his company. Zuko tried not to sigh in exasperation as he said, "What is it, Ryu?"

Ryu's face broke into his friendliest, most endearing grin, which Zuko found instantly suspicious. "Oh, nothing. Just getting a start on the day." He crossed his arms, leaning up against the doorway and striking a nonchalant pose. "Any idea what's ahead for said day?"

Zuko shrugged and turned back to the mirror. "Same shit, different day. Roll call, morning drill, probably a round of paperwork-"

"And don't forget some random bullshit for the big inspection," Toru added.

This time, Zuko really did sigh, though in resignation. "Yeah…_the inspection._" The inspection in question was a huge to-do, scheduled in a week's time. Some bigwig was coming to the camp, and the entire regiment was going to put on a big review, full-court military exercises, the works. It was, Zuko supposed, only to be expected. The Ninety-Fourth (_and yes, its men were fully aware of how unlucky its name was_) had only recently – within the past two months, actually – been rotated out of active combat duty in the volatile northeast after an ungodly nearly four solid years on the line, chasing guerillas and putting down insurrections. In all that time, they had been spared the reviews and parades there were the lot in life for those units doomed to be posted to quieter corners of the occupied Earth Kingdom. _Now, though, I guess it's our turn._ He heaved another sigh. _Still fucking annoying, though._

To his left, Ryu was echoing his discontent. "Oh, right, _the inspection._" A pause, and then, in a casual voice, as if it had just occurred to him, "you know, that reminds me…hey, Zuk?"

"Hmm?"

"Mind if I borrow your whetstone? My razor needs sharpening."

Zuko didn't hesitate. Ryu was unlucky enough to have been born the son of a wealthy merchant back in the Homeland, which often meant that, despite managing to graduate at the top of his class at the Royal Military Academy in Shu Jing, he often _odd man out_ among the largely noble-born officer corps. It also meant he was chronically short of everything from money to connections to basic extras.

Which didn't mean that Zuko, even after only two months of knowing the boy, was about to let him borrow _anything_. "Fuck no, Ryu. Go hit up someone else."

Ryu adopted a pained, offended expression. "Zuk! I thought we were friends!"

"We _are_ friends," Zuko admitted, "but that doesn't mean I'm about to lend you anything."

"Well, why the fuck not?"

"Because it tends not to come back."

Ryu huffed. "Fine, _be that way._ Hey, Toru-"

"_No._"

Ryu shook his head, expression sad. "Well, I see how it is. With friends like these…" He wandered off, but not before Toru turned, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted, "_And remember, you still owe me ten yen!"_

It was hard not to laugh at that. "You lent Ryu _money?_"

Toru shrugged. "What, like you haven't?"

"Just the once."

"Yeah, well, hope springs eternal, as they say."

Zuko wasn't entirely sure what happened to him then. Maybe it was the words his best friend used, or maybe it the dream, or maybe it was just the time of year, the fall, the time _the incident _happened. He found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror, only, really _looking_. He searched, for what he wasn't sure, maybe just a sign, a glimmer, of the _prince_ hidden somewhere in the image of the _soldier_. Once, when he looked at himself in the mirror, he had seen before him a young royal, soft and bright-eyed and desperate to accomplish something, _anything_, worthwhile in his life. In the place of that _spare of a spare_, stood about six-feet-three-inches of lean, hardened junior officer, skin weathered by four years of active service. The right eye was still gold, but harder now, somehow leaner, and the left was still pale, an unnatural white, buried amongst the scar that covered much of the left side of his face, the mark of his father's esteem. He looked there for the boy, the prince, but found neither.

_Thank the gods…_

"Zuko? You alright?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. It was just…that was something my mother always used to tell me."

"Ah." Toru nodded, pursed his lips, and then, showing just how good of a friend he was, and how well he knew the former prince, said, "So, morning drill. Anything special?"

It was hard not to smile, to not throw an arm around his friend and give him a manly side-hug, but somehow, Zuko managed. "I don't know about you, but I think some bending exercises would do some good. The new crop of firebenders in the company look a bit sloppy to me."

"I'm with you there. What were you thinking?"

"Well-"

"Lieutenant Tokugawa? Lieutenant Watanabe?"

In unison, Zuko and Toru turned on their heels to find their company commander's clerk standing in the doorway. All three men snapped to attention, before the clerk, a young, fresh-faced corporal by the name of Yukichi, bowed low, a bow that the two officers returned. Preliminaries over with, the clerk snapped back to attention and said, "Lieutenants, the Captain requests your presence in his office as soon as possible."

The young officers exchanged quick looks, of the kind soldiers always use in such situations, the one that says, _Fuck, what now? _It wasn't that they disliked their CO, far from it; it was just, as Zuko reflected to himself, breaks in the military routine rarely boded well. Focusing on the clerk, Toru asked, "Anything you can tell us?"

The clerk kept his expression blank, as befitted an enlisted man speaking to officers. "Nothing that the Captain won't tell you, or that you need to be warned about."

_Translation: No one's in trouble, and it's nothing serious. _Zuko breathed an inward sigh of relief. "We'll be there right away," he said aloud. "Have you already spoken to Lieutenants Mishima, Hideki, and Tsurukawa?" Those being the other three junior officers in the company.

The clerk nodded. "I've spoken to Lieutenants Mishima and Hideki, but I haven't found Lieutenant Tsurukawa yet."

"We'll take care of it," Toru said. "I happen to know where he is." Which was, Zuko thought, most likely already with his men, since, as the commander of the support and heavy weapons platoon, Tsurukawa had the most crap to get ready for an inspection.

The clerk gave a shallow bow. "I'd greatly appreciate it, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it, Corporal. Dismissed."

The clerk bowed low, the officers bowed back, and then, as soon as the clerk was out of earshot, launched right into speculating about what the fuss was, since it is an eternal truth that the only thing soldiers love more than a weekend pass into town is gossip, and that they go about it with all the enthusiasm of teenage girls.


	6. KATARA II

KATARA

WHEN SHE SAW HER BROTHER, SHE WAS INSTANTLY CONCERNED. Sokka was leaning against the railing of the ship, one foot propped up on the lip of the deck, the other on the deck itself. He supported himself on an arm draped over the railing, while with the other, he lazily smoked a cigarette. He was staring at the sunrise, and his expression was very far away.

_He dreamed of Yue again._ Katara sent up a silent prayer to her lost friend, and carefully picked her way across the deck to beside her brother. There, she leaned against the railing, resting on the crossed arms wrapped in the blanket. A random gust of wind caught a strand of hair, and she gave her head a slight shake until it shifted out of her eyes.

They didn't speak, not at first. She couldn't quite think of what to say, and she wasn't even entirely sure her brother knew she was there. She felt lost, adrift, the same way she'd felt ever since the North, when her view of the world, already tottering, had been dealt a final, horrid blow. She listened to the sounds of the ship lurching into life, sailors coming out on deck, the night watch shuffling away, Northerners spitting and cursing and muttering in that strange, nasal dialect of theirs, the one she just couldn't quite get used to. She felt the sea below her, the endless bowl of her element, stretching off into the horizon. She looked up and saw the horizon. The ship was curving southeast, and the sun was beginning to spill out before them. It wasn't much yet, just a pale, shimmering sliver of gold that wavered like gold. There was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the world above them was just beginning to turn to pink, holding the promise of a beautiful day ahead.

She thought, too, mostly about people. She thought about her parents, far away to the South, and wondered if they knew anything about what had happened, _what had gone wrong_, on the other side of the globe. She thought about friends and a handful of boys and relatives and Gran-Gran's cooking. She closed her eyes, and suddenly, she could see faces, the faces of all those they had failed to help, all those they had hurt, no matter what their intentions.

She saw a boy with a damaged face and a kind heart, completely at odds with the uniform he wore so naturally.

_She saw Yue, the best friend she'd ever had…_

Without really thinking about what she was doing, she slid closer to her brother. She pressed her arm up against his, and laid her head on his shoulder. That was when she knew that he had noticed her. He didn't flinch or jump or shout, but, rather, laid his head on top of hers.

To be honest, that, the fact that he didn't give her a weak hug and then try to _act cool_, worried her more than anything.

"Hey, Sokka," she said, for lack of anything better to do.

She felt him take a deep breath, let it out in a cloud of smoke. He tossed the spent cigarette off the side, and she watched it go spinning off into the gloom, vanishing into the sea as if it had never even existed.

"Hey, sis."

There was nothing else, just the weight of his head atop hers, so she steeled herself and pressed on.

"Couldn't sleep?"

A long, heavy sigh, threaded with pain.

"_Yeah…_sorry. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Honestly," she admitted, feeling like a terrible sister as she did so, "I didn't even notice until just now." She allowed herself a wry smile. "Though, maybe I did. How else to explain why I'm up so early when I don't have to be?"

He laughed, which was what she was willing to call it, seeing as, even it was just a dry, slightly sarcastic _snort_, it was the closest to laughter he'd been in _months_.

"I was just about to ask you that, actually."

"Heh…" She extended a finger, gave him a soft poke through the blanket it. "What did I tell you? I'm a freaking _mind-reader._"

"I thought that was Mom's job?"

"Well, I don't see Mom around. Do you? Someone has to keep you in line."

Another dry snort, another contraction of Katara's heart at the pain that threaded through the sound. "And thank the _gods_ neither of our parents are around. Though…" And she could just _picture_ that smug smile, and that mischievous sparkle in the eyes. "To be completely honest, as glad as I am that they are far away, it would've been worth all the tea in Ba Sing Se to see you explain the incident after we helped catch Jet."

She pulled away, fixing him with a glare and finding some joy in seeing that he was actually looking at her and doing something that could _potentially_ be called a _smile._ "And just what the hell does _that_ mean?"

He rolled his eyes, in that way that always made her want to smack them out of his skull. "Oh, I dunno…about how you turned up from being gone for a night with a smirk on your face and the most blatant case of sex hair I've ever seen?"

She was far too happy to see her brother act like himself to be in the least bit offended, but she decided to have fun and play the part, anyways. Turning her face away, she adopted a haughty pose, shoulders back, chin out, and said, in a voice that said, _Well, I __**never**_, "I don't know _what _you're talking about. Lieutenant Tokugawa was an officer and a gentleman and would _never_ take advantage of a lady."

This time, the _dry snort_ actually sounded a bit like a laugh. "Hey, I never said _he _was the one who took advantage, dear sister."

She rounded on him, mouth agape. "And what, exactly, are you implying, _dear brother?_"

He raised his hands in surrender. "Nothing at all, _dear sister._"

At the look of blatantly faked innocence on her face, even the _pretense_ of offense wilted away. Rolling her eyes and clucking her tongue, she gave him a sharp swat on the arm and said, "That's what I _thought_."

He actually _chuckled_ this time, which just about made her jump with glee. Rubbing his arm, he said, "Oh, sis, what am I going to do with you?"

She sighed, and tried hard not to adopt an indulgent expression. "Isn't that _my_ line, Sokka?"

He shrugged in acknowledgement. "Fair enough." And, just like that, his face fell, and he was turning away, back to the sun, back to the direction that would offer no chance of seeing the moon.

She didn't turn, though. She leaned an elbow on the railing, pulled the blanket tighter, and kept her gaze focused on him. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a fading glimmer of the moon, but she ignored it. She ignored it, and the confusing mix of sadness and rage she felt every time she saw it rise on a clear, cool night.

"What's wrong, Sokka?"

The snort he gave this time was one of derision. "Come on, Katara, what _isn't?_ I mean…fuck…_everything's wrong._ A good two years we've been out here now, and what have we actually accomplished?" Reaching into the pouch on his hip, he pulled out rolling paper and tobacco and made himself a cigarette, lighting it with a match struck off the railing. He shook out the match and set to taking angry puffs. "I mean…I get _why_, as in, _why we had to go to the North._"

"No Avatar has ever not been proclaimed a Master by both tribes."

He sighed. "I _know_ that, and I get why it took so long to get there, and…and…"

His voice broke. He closed his eyes and looked away, and Katara tried not to notice the sudden tear he wiped away in a movement meant to look like he was scratching his nose. She finished the sentence in her mind, complete with her own emotion-wracked voice.

_And why it took so long to get away…_

She leaned forward, pulled a hand from within the blanket, laid it on his arm. She tried to take some of her strength, the strength she'd never known she'd had, and transfer it to him. She would feel better if she knew that this ever worked.

"I know, Sokka, _trust me_, I know." She felt a stinging wetness in her eyes, and willed it away. _Not now. Not yet. I can't cry yet. Someday…but not today._ "She was my friend, too."

"Yue," he said, turning back to face her, eyes so sad it was hard to remember her promise to stay strong, "or Korra?"

The name had been uttered, and there was no going back. It was a name Katara no longer knew what to think or feel about. _Korra_, the now fourteen-year-old girl, well on her way to becoming tall and beautiful. _Korra_, daughter of a poor family of buffalo-yak herders out in the hills surrounding her village. _Korra_, smart, strong-willed, gifted, naïve, but willing to learn.

_Korra_, the Avatar.

_Korra, the murderer…_

She took a moment, bit down on the words, _that word_. She was being unfair, she knew. It was war, plain and simple, and, by the end of their year-long trek across the occupied Earth Kingdom, her hands were far from clean. Still…_still…_

_ It shouldn't have happened the way it did, and who could she blame but…_

_ No._ She swallowed the thought. _Down that path lies madness._

"Yue," she said, her riot of thoughts over within a second, "I'm talking about Yue. _We're_ talking about Yue."

His shoulder slumped, and he looked away. "Are we?"

She squeezed his arm, just to let him know she wasn't going anywhere, before letting go and turning her gaze back to the sun. Her brother didn't really know what he was talking about, and to be honest, she didn't have much of a clue, either. _Did we ever? _"It can't go on like this, you know."

He hung his head, looking down into the depths of the ocean. "Yeah, I know…"

"You have to start speaking to her again someday."

A sigh. "I know…but not today."

"How about tomorrow, then?"

The snort was back, the good one, and she turned to him just as he turned to her. He gave her his patented lop-sided grin, and then delivered a soft nudge of the elbow to her arm.

"That depends. Got any seal-jerky?"

What could she do? Especially when he turned _that stupid gods-damn smile of his _on her. The only thing she _could_ do, really, was give him a nudge right back. His smile grew, and she could feel it being reflected on her face, but before a _Sibling Nudge Fight_ could break out, they were interrupted by a soft clearing of a throat. They frowned at each other, then turned, instantly united, to find a young man, around Sokka's twenty-four, standing before them, tall and thin, with the elegant features of Northern Water Tribe nobility and the elegant duty uniform of a member of the Royal Army.

"Hello, Lieutenant Alignak," Katara said, dipping her head, the closest the Water Tribes came to the absurd bowing (to her eyes) of the nations of Earth and Fire.

"Hey, dude," was Sokka's move, as he crossed his arms and did his best to look cool.

If it impressed Alignak, it didn't show. The young man merely returned Katara's _dip of the head_ and said, in the refined accent of the Northern elite, "Master Sokka, Lady Katara, I have the pleasure of informing you that we will be arriving in Omashu this very afternoon."

"Are any problems expected?" Sokka asked.

Alignak shook his head. "Not that we're aware of, Master Sokka. After all, this is merely a trading vessel, and, despite the…ah…_regrettable incident_ this past spring, Fire Lord Iroh has made very clear that, as far as he's concerned, the peace treaty by which the Northern Water Tribe came to terms a decade ago still holds."

Sokka had to bite down on a sucked in breath at the words _regrettable incident_, but, otherwise, said and did nothing. For this, Katara was very glad, because if he'd decided to react in a more forceful way, she was not entirely sure she'd have been inclined to stop him. Easily taking over the conversation, she said, "Well, I'm sure we're all happy to hear that." She dipped her head. "Thank you, Lieutenant Alignak."

"My pleasure, Lady Katara. Oh, and one more thing."

_I'd really rather you stopped there, you pompous prig. _Which, Katara knew, was the _second_ unfair thought she'd had that day, considering she didn't know Alignak at all. Still, he was Northern nobility, and she had had quite enough of them by this point. "Oh? And what would that be?" She made a mental note to congratulate herself later for her control.

"Master Pakku would be honored if you, Master Sokka, and the Lady Avatar would join him for breakfast. There are some…_important matters_ he wishes to discuss with you all."

Before Sokka could make some biting remark that would get him disinvited, Katara stepped forward, said, "Thank you, we would be honored," and made sure to glare her brother into silent acquiescence as soon as Alignak's back was turned.

It took all of ten seconds for him to huff and surrender, which Katara took to mean that her skills were slipping.


	7. THE CAPTAIN I

THE CAPTAIN

HIS BOYS TROOPED INTO HIS CRAMPED, ALBEIT NEAT, OFFICE NOT LONG AFTER BREAKFAST. Morning drill had been no doubt been handed over to the platoon sergeants, and Ueno Tsuda, Captain, commander Second Company, First Battalion, Ninety-Fourth Infantry Regiment, stood facing the window, puffing his pipe, as his clerk, Corporal Yukichi, ushered them in. Once everyone was sorted out and settled, Yukichi cleared his throat and asked, "Will that be all, sir?"

Ueno took a long, relaxing pull on his pipe, let it out, then said, "That will be all, Corporal."

"Very well, sir." There was the _thwack _of booted heels clipped together, a bow, and then the boy was gone from the room, the door closed, and only officers remained.

Ueno turned to face his boys. As one, almost as if they were, in fact, a single person, rather than five, they snapped to attention, heels clicking in perfect time, bowed low, and chorused, "Good morning, sir."

He set down his pipe, bowed back, and said, "Good morning, gentlemen." They all rose, and, very quietly, very quickly, but very thoroughly, performed an inspection.

Captain Ueno was not a hard man, but he was a professional soldier, right down to his core. He gave professionalism and respect, and expected it in return. Because his men respected him, they never failed him, baring they occasional young conscript fresh from the Homeland or, gods forbid, the colonies. His junior officers were immaculate, dressed in crisp duty uniforms, black and scarlet fresh, belt buckles gleaming, faces shaved. They stood at rigid attention, perfectly arrayed by seniority, from Ueno's right to his left. If they felt cramped and claustrophobic, they did not show it, or even hint at it.

He regarded each of them in turn. His personal philosophy was that, if one's troops were to be good, one's officers was must be as close to perfect as humanly possible, and, most importantly, must show it. The first two in the line, Watanabe and Tokugawa, naturally passed immediate muster. Typically, Tokugawa, scion of royalty, had gone a bit overboard, even taking the time to polish the scabbard of his _katana_ at some point in the recent past.

_That boy_, Ueno thought. _One of these days, I'm going to convince him that he doesn't have anything to prove to me._

First, Tokugawa, then Watanabe, then, the officer who came in not a month after they did, Lieutenant Tsurukawa, of the same age (twenty-two), whose first name was so universally accepted as being stupid that no one ever bothered to use it. He was of peasant extraction, and looked it, with a weathered, lean, slightly beaten look. In the days of Fire Lord Sozin's reforms, before the War, every university had been required to keep subsidized spots for gifted commoners. Nowadays, these spots typically went to the sons of merchants and the like, but Tsurukawa had somehow managed to slip into the Royal Engineering Academy, and Ueno was heartily glad for it.

Next, came Lieutenant Hideki Yukawa, all of twenty, short, squat, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and looking just as quiet and taciturn as ever. After Tokugawa, he was, oddly enough, the highest born individual here, though, being the fifth of five sons, no one in his family had cared enough to try and secure him a more prestigious posting. If that treatment was any indication of his family life, Ueno concluded, not for the first time, it went a long way towards explaining why the boy was so damn _quiet_ all the time.

And, of course, last was Lieutenant Mishima, fresh from the Royal Military Academy, top of his class, looking like the out-of-place merchant's son that he was. He had only been with the unit three months, and hadn't seen any action of yet. Still, he _did_ graduate at the top of his class, so Ueno had hopes.

_He always had hopes._ It was, he often though, the downfall of ignoring his first commander's advice, all of twenty years ago, and deciding to _care._

Satisfied, he gave a slight bow of his head, and allowed himself a small smile, which was carefully calculated to look a tad bit frightful, what with the eternal, carefully practiced scowl on his face and the dark, hard, flinty eyes that were set deep into his weathered, professional soldier's face. Speaking in his usual growl, he said, "At east, gentlemen."

Without a word, they snapped to it, feet spread, hands clasped behind their backs, and waited.

He didn't make them wait long. Still, a few forms had to be followed. First, each man in turn stepped forward, snapped back to attention, bowed, and gave the morning report. Nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed, just the usual litany of who was on sick call, statements on health and readiness, summaries of how orders and directives from on high were being carried out, a minor spat between two enlisted men in Hideki's platoon, in other words, all was well. Once Mishima had given his report and stepped back into line, Ueno clasped his hands together, laid them on his desk, and leaned forward.

"Well, gentlemen," he began, "first, let me say, I'm very satisfied of late. It appears that the integration of the latest batch of conscripts and fresh recruits is going quite well, and you are to be commended."

"Thank you, sir," they chorused.

"That said, that's not why I've gathered you here today." He took a deep breath, let it out, and pressed on. "The simple truth, gentlemen, is that I have some good news, and I have some merely okay news."

With that, he ignored the palpable sense of, _Oh fuck, what now, _that rippled through the boys, and opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out four folders containing that bane of military life: _Paperwork._ He laid the stack on his desk, then settled his re-clasped hands upon it.

"The good news, which I'm sure you'll all be _devastated about_, is that our company shall not have to participate in the general inspection and review that's coming up." He allowed that to sink in, taking careful note of how all but Mishima were able to quickly suppress their glee (which made sense, since he had heard, not long before, that young Mishima had loudly dubbed the day in question as _The Day of Doom_). For his own part, Ueno was quite happy to no longer had to worry about such matters, but he was not about to say that out loud.

He cleared his throat, and carried on.

"The okay news, I'm afraid, is _why_ we shall be spared." He tapped the folders lightly. "These are our orders." As he continued talking, he spread the folders out and pushed them forward, and each officer took on, tucking them under their arms and returning to what only a soldier would call _being at ease. _"What it boils down to is that we've have been tasked with a special assignment, _glorified public relations_, to be brutally honest. Now, have any of you ever heard of a place called _Gaoling?_"

He was not surprised that four of his officers looked completely blank, or that each of their eyes slid towards the young man with half a face on the end. Tokugawa heaved a big sigh, the one that typically meant, _Don't they teach anything in schools these days?_ "I have, sir."

Ueno nodded. "What do you know about it, Lieutenant?"

Tokugawa shifted his feet a bit, suddenly looking shy and awkward, as he always did in such situations. "Enough to know that there's not much to know about it, sir. It's a moderately-sized town, strategically unimportant. It never saw much fighting during the War, the local nobility is friendly, and the only thing of note is the Earth Rumble Tournament, held every year in the fall."

From the other end of the line came a muted sigh, which appeared to be Mishima's way of saying, _How __**do**__ you know shit like this? _From that, Ueno concluded that either Mishima was not yet fully aware of Tokugawa's background, or was just unused to the boy's unnaturally comprehensive education.

Ueno made a note to find out which, and continued speaking. "Precisely, and it's that very tournament that is getting us out of the inspection. It appears that, every year since then Crown Prince Iroh brought the War to a close, the local bigwigs, a wealthy, powerful house known as the..." pause to check the notes, "…_Bei Fongs_, have sent in a request for us to send a regular army detachment to help with keeping order. A detachment was sent to the first tournament after the War ended, but since then, it hasn't been considered necessary, since it's probably just a way for the locals to curry favor. Last year, though, there was some kind of minor disturbance, so it's been decided that this year, somebody should go show the flag. Thus, in three days' time, we head for Gaoling, where we'll keep the peace until the tournament is done, then head back here."

He paused here, running his eyes over the faces of his officers. Except for Mishima, every single one was of proven quality, and they showed it. They didn't groan, mutter, or roll their eyes at what was obviously a bit of a bullshit assignment. They merely stood, eyes focused attentively on him, awaiting their orders. Even Mishima, for all his inexperience and inability to fully keep his confusion hidden, was waiting calmly and patiently.

"Personally," Ueno continued, running a hand through his greying hair, "I'm not expecting much trouble. As I said, this smells of the locals showing off how loyal they are and impressing the peasants. Be that as it may, orders are orders." That said, he stood, and the assembly snapped right back to attention. "In the folds, you will find detailed breakdowns of the assignment, as well as all of the forms you will need to get whatever it takes for your men to be ready. As of now, our company is excused from all preparations for the inspection. I expect everything to be ready by dinner tomorrow evening. Any questions?"

"No, sir," they chorused.

"Very well, gentlemen. Dismissed."

They bowed, he bowed back, and Mishima began to lead the file out. Ueno waited until Tokugawa was about to step through the door before saying, "Just a moment, Tokugawa."

Tokugawa paused, and if Ueno hadn't had the boy under his command for so long, he would have missed the jolt of uncertainty that shot through him. The boy was still a good soldier, though, because, without hesitation, he turned on his heel and bowed his head. "Sir?"

Ueno gestured at the door. "Close the door, if you please."

"Yes, sir." Tokugawa promptly did just that, then returned to the front of the desk, at attention.

Since it was now one-on-one, rather than an assembly, Ueno allowed himself a small, genuine smile. "At ease, Lieutenant." Tokugawa relaxed a bit (_as much as he ever does_, Ueno thought), while Ueno settled back down in his chair and relit his pipe. He took a few relaxing puffs, then said, "Before you left, there was something I wanted you to know."

Ueno was not in the least bit surprised to see that Tokugawa already seemed to know _exactly_ what Ueno wanted to talk to him about. "Sir?"

Ueno couldn't help but sigh. It was times like this that his heart really did go out to the boy. Ueno had only once been to the Palace, to receive a commendation, and even then only for a day and a night, but that was all he had needed to decide that the place was a rat's nest of the worst sort. His brief stay had left him feeling unclean and psychologically exhausted; he shuddered to think of what it would have been like to grow up there. And now, here he was, about to try to explain things that young Lieutenant Tokugawa was no doubt painfully aware of.

_The poor boy,_ he thought. _He never deserved to be born there. _

"You see," he said, choosing his words carefully, "it's because of this inspection that we got this assignment."

Tokugawa allowed himself a frown. "So, the rumors are true, then?"

Ueno nodded. "I'm afraid so. The worst-kept secret in the Army is completely true: The Crown Prince himself is conducting this inspection tour. It's being kept officially secret, of course, for security reasons, but the point is, sometime next week, your cousin will be here."

The look on Tokugawa's face said one thing: _Ah. _"I see, sir."

Ueno felt a grimace crease his face. _Of course you do. _"I had a feeling you would. So, when this assignment popped up, I jumped at it." He let out a soft chuckle. "Which wasn't hard; no one's exactly _chomping at the bit _to get it."

To Ueno's eternal discomfort, Tokugawa actually dipped a low bow. "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate that."

Ueno quickly waved the gratitude away. "Don't worry about it. You're my best officer; hell, you're the best officer in the whole damn regiment, myself included. You don't need that kind of trouble."

Under Ueno's eyes, the boy practically _wilted._ Ueno wracked his mind, not for the first time, struggling to come up with one person who had been as unable to handle compliments as Lieutenant Tokugawa Zuko. As usual, he drew a blank. The boy opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and finally choked out, "Nonetheless…thank you, sir." For a moment, the boy actually _smiled_, which did not look nearly as bad as the boy thought it did. But then, the smile faded, replaced by curiosity, as Ueno watched the wheels turn and cogs click into place. This time, when Tokugawa opened his mouth, he didn't hesitate. "Sir…?"

Ueno saw what was coming, and stopped it. "I'd rather we not go any further down that road, Lieutenant. Suffice it to say, you're absolutely right, the inspection tour really is about _exactly _what you think it's about."

Tokugawa nodded, looking satisfied. "Thank you, sir."

Ueno nodded, and resisted the urge to throw in a conspiratorial wink. _Worst kept secret in the Army, I swear_, he thought with a touch of irritation. _The Crown Prince's __**entourage**__ leaks like a sieve. _"Any other questions, Lieutenant?"

Tokugawa shook his head. "No, sir."

"Very well. Dismissed."

A bow, then, "Good day, sir." With that, the boy turned on his heel and headed for the door. He had it open when Ueno thought of something very important that had almost slipped his mind. Leaning forward, he said, "Oh, and Lieutenant?"

Tokugawa paused, hand on the door handle. "Sir?"

"If I was you," Ueno said, keeping his voice light and unconcerned, "I would have a little conference with my fellow officers, and have a quick word with Lieutenant Mishima, seeing as he's so new."

Tokugawa, to his credit, kept his cool.

"I had just reached the same conclusion, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it. Dismissed."

"Sir."

Ueno allowed himself a few moments of quiet contemplation, complete with unhurried puffs of his pipe, before calling his clerk in. There was, after all, a lot of work to do.


	8. TEMPORARY DUTY

TEMPORARY DUTY

IN ALL, LIEUTENANT KAWAZAKI DECIDED, HE HAD HAD WORSE ASSIGNMENTS. For example, at the Academy, a royal visit in this second year had resulted in him standing in a corner, holding a flagon of wine, on the off chance that the famously teetotal Fire Lord decided that he wanted a glass. Another time, early in his tour of duty, he had been ordered to take a detachment out to a random village to escort a merchant from the Homeland to another village. This, of course, being in spite of the fact that this was in a quiet sector, and, more to the point, it had turned out that the merchant had thought ahead and secured personal security, had already left, and had simply checked the wrong box on his paperwork. Naturally, Kawazaki's unit was viciously ambushed on the way back to base, because, well, _naturally, _and he had lost far too many men to a band of very capable guerillas who hadn't even been based in the area, but had just been passing through and seen a target of opportunity.

So, yes, he had had worse assignments. _Much worse_. Still, for all of that, that didn't mean that he had to _like_ his current assignment.

For one thing, what was supposed to merely be a bit of _temporary duty_ away from his unit had somehow morphed into a never-ending cavalcade of never-ending visits to scattered Fire Nation nobility, administrators, and the like, and nevermind the seemingly infinite number of relatives – distant and otherwise – that his charge seemed to have. Then there were the official functions, the balls and receptions that required him to keep his dress uniform in constant tip-top shape, and, of course, the unending caprices of being forced to follow the whims of a twenty-year-old _girl._

And, of course, there was…well…_that servant._

Kawazaki was following her now, ducking and threading through the bustling mansion in the part of Omashu set aside for members of the Occupation Authorities and their guests. The servant had found him in the middle of the morning briefing with his noncommissioned officers. He had grown immediately annoyed when the servant (sure, a personal, kind of _body servant_ to the extraordinarily highborn lady he was tasked with protecting, _by her father_, no less) had barged right into the briefing room and loudly announced that he was needed, _immediately._ Frustrated (sure, it wasn't an important meeting, just military routine), he had stood, made the most insulting bow that he could, and gruffly asked if it could wait a few minutes. To his never-ending shock, the servant had done what they normally did, their eyes narrowing, a haughty, downright _amused_ expression on their face, and said, in a voice that was _far_ too educated and erudite for someone of their station, that, _No, it absolutely __**cannot**__ wait. So, any minute now, __**thank you.**_ Then, horror-of-horrors, the servant had returned the bow, just as insulting, with an added component of mockery that made Kawazaki see red and caused his men to suppress awkward mutters.

And so here he was, following, _following_, mind you, a mere _servant_ that he just couldn't quite get a handle on. They had set his nerves on edge from the very beginning. The girl (_if she could be called a __**girl**__, _he often thought), was rather tall for a woman, a good five-foot-seven, almost as tall as the noblewoman she served (_or so he thought, given he had never actually seen the servant, well…__**serve**_). She had golden eyes, to a degree normally seen amongst firebending nobility, and, what was more, she _walked_ like a noble, head up, shoulders back, chin out. She was always immaculately dressed, with Kawazaki never had felt comfortable with the coiled spring nature of her movements. And she was _far_ too beautiful for a servant, far too beautiful by _half_, as far as he was concerned.

Plus, he couldn't quite escape the feeling that he knew her from somewhere, or, at least, _should_ know her from somewhere.

When they finally reached their destination, the servant girl, as usual, didn't even knock. No, she just barged right in, making a shallow, somewhat mocking bow to her erstwhile mistress while Kawazaki was forced to make the standard deep bow of an _actual_ servant. And they made him hold it for a long time, too, like they always did, before, _finally_, a cold, haughty, somewhat distant voice that always set his nerves on edge bade him rise.

The scene before him was a normal one, albeit, not one he was, as yet, used to. Two young women lounged at a low table, the windows open on a beautiful, cloudless autumn morning. Kawazaki couldn't help but notice that the table was set for three, even though only two were currently sitting there. He worked hard not to let his eyes slide over to the _servant_ with an air of disdain, settling for communicating it with body language.

The young women themselves were regarding them as they usually did. On one side sat the girl he hated the most. She had darker skin then most Fire Nation natives, which was only to be expected; she was, after all, Haka, descended from one of the Earth Kingdom's interminable ethnic groups, who had fled Chin the Conqueror back when the Fire Nation was too caught up in its most recent round of civil wars to be able to stop them. She was the shortest of the three, thin and willowy, with bright dark brown eyes and hair constantly in a ponytail tied with a pink ribbon. She was, indeed, _draped _in pink, and covered in bangles, and always spoke in a high, flighty voice, as if she was ten, not twenty. She was always giggly and happy and doing random cartwheels, no matter how inappropriate. She was Haka, to boot, and thus not Fire Nation, and thus, he hated her.

Plus, once, she had been hassled by a soldier at least three times her size and body weight, and before Kawazaki's astonished eyes, had, in less than ten seconds, deftly beaten him into a sobbing, quivering mess. So, that didn't improve his opinion of her in the slightest.

And then…well…there was _her._ His _boss_, for lack of a better word, his boss for what felt like _the rest of his life_. She was _very_ tall for a girl of twenty, a full five-foot-nine, thin, with elegant features straight out of Noh play. She looked the perfect picture of high Fire Nation society, from her accent to her clothes to her always perfect long, straight, jet-black hair. She spoke to him as she spoke to just about everybody, it seemed, with an air of derision, as if she just really _couldn't be bothered_, but, well, _while you're here in her presence_, she supposes that she can just grin and _bear it._

_Not that she ever smiles_, he thought.

But there was more…something else, something that just got under his skin and refused to go away. There was, when she spoke to him, even when she just _looked at him_, something _more_. It was almost as if she was _amused by him_, like there was a faint glimmer, a twinkle of laughter hiding in the depths of her ice-cold golden eyes, a hint of mockery thrumming around the edges of her voice. It was if…

_As if he was missing something important, right in front of his eyes, and she thought it was just __**hysterical**__ that he kept missing it…_

He gave himself a slight shake. _Focus, Kawazaki. A few more months of this, and your National Service will be through and you can forget all about this._

_ And other things, too…_

He cleared his throat, stood at perfect attention, and said, "I believe you asked for me, my lady?"

If the Lady Arinori Mai took the slightest bit of notice of him, she didn't show it. Without even looking at him, she said, to her tablemate, "So, Ty, you were saying?"

The girl (named _Ty Lee_, if one could believe it, which Kawazaki couldn't) was positively bouncing in her place on the floor. "I was _saying_, Mai, that I did some checking, and guess what?"

The Lady Mai rolled her eyes and gave her friend an indulgent look that Kawazaki really couldn't quite figure out. "_Ty_, I beg to remind you that _Shizuka_," that being the so-called _servant_, "and I have been feeding you guess for, what has it been now, Shizuka?"

The servant Shizuka responded by waltzing right up to the table, plopping herself down, and helping herself to some wine. "At least an hour, before we remembered that we needed to speak to the Lieutenant here."

Kawazaki once more cleared his throat, hoping that was his cue. "Ah, yes, about that-"

The Lady Mai stopped him with a snap of her fingers. "We'll get to that, Lieutenant." Which, while it galled him, did at least reassure him that she knew he existed. "Now, Ty, what the _hell_ is it that you want to tell us?"

The girl Ty Lee heaved a big, dramatic _huff_, crossing her arms and sticking her bottom lip out in a pout. It was, Kawazaki admitted, terribly easy to underestimate her, though now, all he could think of was the medic telling him how many of that soldier's bones she had broken, and how the girl hadn't even broken a sweat in the process.

"Ugh, _fine_, if you guys want to be like that…" The petulant mood passes just as quickly as it had arrived, that the girl was right back to being bubbly and excited, positively vibrating with glee. "You see, I got hold of a map by-"

The Lady Mai raised a hand. "I really don't want to know how you got hold of a map, Ty."

The servant Shizuka laughed. "Oh, I don't know, I bet it's an interesting story."

The girl Ty Lee gasped, hands to her mouth. "It is, it is!"

"Maybe later," the Lady Mai allowed. "For now, _spill_, if you don't mind."

The girl Ty Lee rolled her eyes. "_Fine_. No sense for the dramatic, I _swear_." This, to Kawazaki's consternation, set off a round of giggles, and he felt like the stereotypical outsider, witness to an inside joke he didn't get, and couldn't even guess at. Meanwhile, the girl Ty Lee had thrown her hands into the air and said, "_The Ninety-Fourth is billeted not far from Gaoling!_"

Later, Kawazaki would set down with a friend he had made in the Omashu garrison and try to suss out exactly what it was that he had witnessed. Basically, the mouths of the servant and the Lady Mai had outright _dropped open_, and their faces had gone pale with shock. Then, to his eternal surprise, not only did the servant Shizuka's face suddenly begin to beam with what could only be _joy_, but the Lady Mai, for the first time in Kawazaki's time with her, actually…well…_smiled._

Taking a sip of wine (as if to cover the indiscretion), the Lady Mai said, "I thought they were on eternal posting to the northeast, in the more active zones."

The girl Ty Lee shook her head. "Not for now, it seems. From what I heard, they had a hard time of it during the uprising this past spring, and they've finally been pulled back to refit."

There then passed a look of terrified concern between the Lady Mai and her servant, and they exchanged a few hushed words that Kawazaki couldn't quite catch. Right before his eyes, the servant reached out and laid a hand on her mistress's arm, and not only did the Lady Mai not pull away, but she _smiled_ and laid her hand on her servant's. A strange moment passed, but, when the Lady Mai resumed speaking, all seemed to have been deemed to be well.

"Lieutenant?" she said, not even looking at him.

He clicked his heels and bowed his head. "Yes, my lady."

"We will be departing for Gaoling as soon as possible."

Kawazaki could only frown. _Gaoling? What could __**possibly**__ be __**there?**_ "Gaoling, my lady?"

"I wish to see the Earth Rumble Tournament," she replied, still not looking at him. "And on our way back, we will stop at the billet of the Ninety-Fourth Infantry Regiment, where I will visit an old friend."

_Wait? She has friends? __**Male**__ friends? In the __**Army?**_ Last Kawazaki had heard, she had, after entertaining and rejecting countless marriage contracts since her own to the Prince (_ex-Prince_, Kawazaki corrected himself) Zuko had been broken, finally agreed to enter into serious negotiations with the Kawabata Clan for the hand of their eldest son, Yasunari, despite the fact that said eldest son was both twenty years her senior, and not the _least_ bit interested in women. Still…_my is not to question why…_

"Very well, my lady." He took a deep breath, and forced himself to ask the question his orders required him to ask. "Have you, by chance, notified your father, and has he given his permission…?"

Kawazaki was a soldier with extensive combat experience and proven ability, known through the commands he had served under for his coolness under fire. Despite that, the look the Lady Mai gave him made his blood run cold.

"That is none of your concern, Lieutenant." The words cracked like a whip, and hung in the air as she continued to glower. Somehow, Kawazaki managed to wait it out, all while not gulping, and then, _just like that_, she looked away and the moment was over. "That will be all, Lieutenant. We leave at first light tomorrow. You can show yourself out."

Lieutenant Kawazaki quickly did just that, though the strangest moment happened just after the doors closed behind him (_operated by __**actual **__servants_), when he could have _sworn_ he heard girlish squeals, but, surely, that _couldn't _be right.

_Could it…?_

Yes, Lieutenant Kawazaki had had worse assignments, but this was, without a doubt, the strangest.


	9. THE CROWN PRINCE I

THE CROWN PRINCE

THE CARRIAGE BUCKED AND RATTLED DOWN A RATHER PISS-POOR ROAD, WHILE WITHIN, HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE CROWN PRINCE TOKUGAWA YOSHIHITO SMOKED THE HIGHEST QUALITY CIGARETTES AND THOUGHT OF HIS FATHER.

It was not the most pleasant of ways to pass the time. The last time he had seen his father, _His Majesty Fire Lord Iroh_, perfect exemplar of the Tokugawa Dynasty, latest head of the clan that had united the Fire Nation and ended centuries of vicious civil war, before going on to conquer the world itself, had been in Miyako, in the spring. It had, Yoshihito remembered, been a glorious day, weather-wise, at least. He had slept late, as he often did when he was back home, and he had been shaken from a well-earned hangover by a clerk of the Royal Household, and told that his father was awaiting him out in the Royal Gardens. Annoyed, he had quaffed some water, thrown his latest concubine out of his bed, and stamped impatiently while his personal servants quickly washed and dressed him. All the while, his father's clerk stood by the door, not noticing the goings-on in a way that made it clear that he noticed everything, and would no doubt make a full report to _His Majesty_ ere the day was through. The thought had filled Yoshihito with an unbridled rage. All his life, ever since he could remember, people had acted like that around him. Just kind of…_noticing by not noticing_. It made him furious. _Why don't they just come out and __**say what they mean?!**_

It goes without saying, of course, that Yoshihito did not think of how he had taken his cousin's honest words four years before. Why would he? What was Zuko but a disfigured idiot who didn't know his place, while Yoshihito? Well…

_I'm the heir to the most powerful man on the planet._

He latched on to that thought as he hurried after the clerk towards the gardens, doing his best to rush without actually looking like he was doing something so common and undignified as _rushing_. _Princes don't rush_, his mother had once told him. _Princes arrive exactly when they're meant to, and not a moment before._

_ Not that Father ever believed that…_

He noticed the thought, frowned at it, and pushed away, just as the clerk led him out into the gardens. It was, he remembered, a pleasant, wonderful day out, pleasantly warm, a light breeze rustling through the trees. Each Fire Lord made their personal mark on the Royal Gardens. Azulon, for example, had been crazy for gardening, and had filled the place with plants from all over the world. Yoshihito's father, however, was a devotee of the art of _Zen_, and the Gardens now reflected that. Delicate terraces surrounded immaculate sand and rock gardens, while carefully placed chimes whispered in the wind and water burbled down paths laid out by His Majesty himself.

Yoshihito hated the place, and he suspected his father knew it. Not that it mattered. His father was the Fire Lord, and could do as he pleased.

_But he won't be Fire Lord forever…_

_ Someday, it'll be __**me**__…_

They found his father right where he expected him to be, standing to the side of a winding path, gazing upon the cherry blossoms with a look of wonder and awe. Personally, Yoshihito would have preferred stronger, more forceful things, like fire lilies, but his father seemed to find comfort and joy in the delicate, pale white flowers of the cherry trees.

_One more thing I'll never understand…_

The clerk stopped just out of sight of the Fire Lord. Without a word, the clerk bowed, falling to his knees and pressing his forehead to the ground. He announced the arrival of the Crown Prince, and at a flick of the wrist from His Majesty, rose and slowly backed away, until, reaching the proper distance, he bowed once more, turned on his heel, and was gone.

Leaving just the Crown Prince and the Fire Lord.

Yoshihito would never forget how his father looked in that moment. Never before had the man seemed more _regal_. He stood, spine straight, hands clasped gently behind his back, looking every inch the former soldier. Yoshihito couldn't quite see his face, but he didn't need to. He knew it was serene, composed, _calm_. The grey hair was tied in a standard topknot, the Fire Lord's crown gleaming from on top, his long grey beard carefully trimmed and maintained. Yoshihito couldn't help but shift his feet and hope that his servants had done a good job trimming his own thin, dark black beard. He knew, of course, that his elaborate phoenix tail was perfect; he had checked that himself.

When his father finally spoke, it was in his usual soft bass, rumbling deep from within his belly that somehow managed to be big, and yet not flabby or soft. The voice always made Yoshihito think of his own stomach, softening as he neglected martial studies, as often as not filled with sake. He hated himself then, almost as much as he hated his father.

"Do you remember Admiral Zhao, my son?"

His father spoke in plain, if refined, Nihongo, eschewing as usual courtly language. With a certain degree of mental effort, Yoshihito did the same.

"Vaguely, Father. A favorite of Uncle's, is he not?"

His father snorted in derision at that. "Anyone with enough bottles of wine and sake in their cellar is a favorite of your uncle's."

Yoshihito would later try very hard to pretend that this was not a subtle rebuke of himself. He would try very hard, and would always fail. Ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he said, "If you say so, Father. What about him?"

His father sighed, unclasping his hands to reach out and lightly brush the blossoms hanging before him.

"There has been an incident in the North, at the capital, Iqaluit."

Yoshihito wracked his brain. There were rumors flying around the capital, whispered in dark corners, and never until the speaker had looked over both shoulders. Something about a _show of force_ gone hideously wrong, and of the very Spirit of the Ocean Itself rising from the depths to punish a hideous sacrilege of the most grotesque sort.

There were also stories about the moon itself turning red as blood for a full fifteen minutes, but on the night in question, Yoshihito had been too stoned on opium to notice.

"I had heard rumors to that affect, Father," he finally decided to admit, after what felt like far too long of a pause.

"Indeed." The hand moved, toying with more blossoms, while the other clenched into a fist and returned to behind his father's back. And still, the Fire Lord did not look at his only son. "It appears that Admiral Zhao could not even follow the most simple of instructions, and nearly brought ruin upon us all. Thankfully, his men forced him to commit _seppuku_, sparing me the indignity of ordering his head struck from his shoulders myself."

Yoshihito's mouth felt dry as sandpaper. He scraped his tongue around it, desperate for some moisture. His head ached, and the incipient hangover was beginning to make itself known.

"Did the Avatar have something to do with it?" he asked, and instantly wished he hadn't.

For a moment, his father looked at him, and the look made his son wish that he hadn't bothered. Every so slowly, his father's head turned, and then the eye was fixed upon the Crown Prince, and the Crown Prince wanted nothing more than to curl up and die right then and there. And then, just like that, the head turned back, and the voice, when it came, was completely normal.

"So it would appear," was all the voice said, and still it nearly reduced Yoshihito to tears. Trembling with shame, he bowed low and said, in an unsteady voice, "I apologize, Father."

A pause, and then, "For what, my son?"

A deep breath, and then, "For failing you, Father. If I had captured the Avatar last year, none of this would have happened."

What Yoshihito wanted was for his father to turn to him, to turn to him and smile and embrace him as he used to, back when he was a boy, to hold him tight and tell him it would all be alright, _that he had nothing to be sorry for._

But the Fire Lord didn't do that. It appeared that his patience with his son and heir was almost at an end.

"Yes, my son, you did. You failed me, and you shamed me, though not as badly as you shamed yourself." A long, drawn-out sigh punctuated this, while Yoshihito blinked back bitter tears. "It's ironic, don't you think?"

"What is, Father?" The voice was thin and childlike, and Yoshihito hated it.

"That you, my only son, my heir, spent most of last year lurching from one end of the Earth Kingdom to the other, letting a teenage girl slip through your fingers at every turn, while your cousin, whom I banished to appease your uncle and prevent a horrid scandal from getting worse, whose abilities all have deprecated at every turn, who has been given nothing in life, has spent the past _four_ on the front lines, covering himself with glory." Yet another sigh, and then, "Funny, how that works out. To one whom all is given, nothing is returned, and to one to whom nothing is given, _everything_ is returned."

Yoshihito did his best to parse out this strange koan, but could find nothing of value within it. "That…that makes no sense father."

His father hung his head, his hand dropping away from the blossoms. "Yes, I had a feeling you would say that."

Finding shame and heartbreak unbearable, Yoshihito fell back on his old friend, blind, unadulterated rage. Stepping forward, hands shaking, he said, the words grinding out through gritted teeth, "Well, Father, if you approve so much of Zuko, why don't you just recall him and restore him to the Palace?"

Yoshihito expected a lot of things, but he wasn't prepared for the answer his father gave him.

"Yes, why don't I?"

To say that Yoshihito's heart broke would be an understatement. "Father…?"

And then, His Majesty Fire Lord Iroh finally turned. He turned, ever so slowly, until he faced his son, and upon his face was written shame and disappointment, not just in his son, but, if Yoshihito had been able to see, in himself.

"My son, I'm afraid there must be not more things unsaid between us. You have, for some time, been nothing but a disappointment to me. At this point, _both_ of your cousins, Zuko _and _Azula, would make for better heirs to me than you."

"Azula?" Yoshihito choked out. "But…she's a _woman._"

"And would not be the first female Fire Lord in history," his father replied, voice even and cold, "just the first of our dynasty. And when I sent her brother away, and did not punish my own, no matter the reasons of state, she turned against me."

Yoshihito found it hard not to laugh. "That's ridiculous, Father."

His father nodded, slow and sure. "I'm sorry that you think so. Be that as it may, you are my son, and your failings are at least partially my own. Thus, I will give you one more chance to prove yourself." He stepped forward, and Yoshihito could not help but notice that, even though he had several inches on his father, the man seemed to tower over him.

"The world, and our rule over it, stands on the edge of an abyss." The words filled Yoshihito with dread, and came like the sound of doom. "The Avatar has well and truly returned, and with her, inspiration for those who would oppose us. Once, we defeated our enemies by keeping them divided. This time, we will not be so lucky. As we learn, so do our enemies, and the Avatar would be the rallying cry that would unite them. That is why you will go back out into the world, and you will not return until you have captured the Avatar, or until I say otherwise." A deep breath, in, out. "Do you understand, my son?"

Yoshihito understood. He understood then, and he understood now. _Be gone from my sight, until you prove that you are not the man I think you are._

And then Yoshihito opened his eyes, and it was autumn again. From the dark corner of the carriage, a voice came, hard and cold, from a man with hard features and black eyes like ice from the pits of hell. He said his name was Kojima, and Yoshihito revealed much by believing that this was true.

"My lord?"

Yoshihito blinked, praying that it was dark enough inside to hide his tears. "Yes, Kojima?"

"Are you troubled, my lord?"

Yoshihito shook his head, pulled a cigarette of the finest tobacco from a jeweled case and lit it with a snap of his fingers. "Not at all, Kojima," he said, voice dripping with disdain, desperate to take his anger and frustration and confusion out on someone. "Why?"

A shrug, no doubt disinterested and bordering on insolence. Yoshihito hated Kojima, but he trusted him, not least because he needed the vile, snakelike man.

"No reason, my lord. Just checking." A shuffling of papers came, and then, "I have the latest reports on where the Avatar might be, my lord."

"That's nice." Wheels turns, and Yoshihito made no attempt to take the papers in question. Wheels turned, and turned, and turned again, and finally, after months away from home, the Crown Prince made up his mind.

"What have you heard about my cousin?"

"Azula?" came the hopeful reply.

"No, you twit. Why would I care about Azula?"

"I think you should care very much about Azula, my lord."

Yoshihito shot his lackey a venomous glare, and was, as usual, infuriated that it did not so much as dent the man's composure. _It's like he's not afraid of me._

_ Like Zuko…_

"I'm asking about Zuko, you fool."

If Yoshihito learned anything from the pained, disappointed sigh his lackey gave out, he himself wasn't aware of it.

* * *

And that's it for a week! Like I said, have fun, review, let me know what you think, and if you have any cool ideas for what to do in Monterrey, Mexico, let me know!

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday, and I miss you all!

When I return, more fun stuff, more happy good times, and, perhaps, some more details in the Author's Notes as to what the hell is going on!

Peace!


	10. KATARA III

KATARA

PAKKU RECEIVED THEM IN HIS CABIN. Sokka was already there; Katara had been left to go back to their cabin and, in the process of splashing some water on her face and putting some decent clothes on, roll Korra out of bed and get her looking presentable. They hadn't really discussed this, her and her brother, it had just happened, and one look at the expression on Sokka's face had encouraged Katara to let it lie. Korra, for her part, had been unusually docile. She'd been that way the whole trip. It hurt Katara's heart, to see the girl like that. For the first part of their journey, Korra had been fire and brimstone and nothing else. She had stuck her nose into every little thing, chomping at the bit to get out into the world and take the fight to the enemy. How else to explain how easily she had gotten on board with that bastard Jet and his _freedom fighters_?

But now? Since what happened…_happened? _She wasn't the same girl anymore. She was quiet and morose and tossed and turned in the night. Before, she would shrug off the most grievous of injuries with hardly a whimper. Now?

_Now she spent far too much of her time looking like she was going to cry…_

It hurt Katara's heart, but not as much as it should have, and that, if anything, hurt her worse. _When did I get so cold? _she thought as she ran a brush through Korra's hair and put it back in a nice, long ponytail. _When did I get so hard? When did I stop caring?_

_ When did I lose faith?_

She never followed that train of thought very far; it was dangerous, and dark, and very, very cold. She knew what lay at the end of it, even as she tried to force herself not to know. With longing, she remembered how she was in the beginning, two years before, when her parents sacrificed a penguin-seal to the gods. Her father had taken out the heart, steaming in the cool autumn air, and her mother had given it, first to Sokka, then to her. They had both taken a bite, and sworn to protect, defend, and guide the Avatar, with their very lives, if necessary. Then they had boarded a ship and headed for the Southern Air Temple, and from there to Kyoshi, and it was all Katara could do not to laugh and cheer and scream with excitement at finally being out in the world. Not even the discovery that the world was not as cut-and-dried as she had thought, that it was a thousand-thousand shades of grey, had dampened her enthusiasm. Not until…

_The North…_

With a start, she realized that Korra and her had come to the door to Pakku's cabin. Alignak stood before them, his eyebrow popped, looking a bit awkward. Katara blinked, lost, confused, the tatters of her thoughts falling like leaves all about her. There came a tug at her sleeve, and she turned, looked down on the teenage girl who was rapidly growing to meet her. She blinked once more, gave herself a shake, and said, "What is it, Korra?"

Korra frowned, and Katara wondered if she was about to see a resurgence of the infamous _Korra Temper_, and couldn't help but feel that this would not necessarily be a bad thing. But the moment passed, as Korra wilted and looked down and muttered, "Alignak was just asking if everything was alright…"

Katara tried to smile, she really did. She tried to smile, reach out, lay a hand on the girl's shoulder, to tell her everything was going to be alright. But she couldn't, because things _weren't_ alright, and maybe they never would be, and Katara wasn't entirely sure if they ever _should_ be. So, instead, she turned to Alignak, gave a weak smile, and said, "Oh, yes, I'm alright." She gave an awkward shrug. "I was just a thousand miles away, I suppose."

If Alignak cared, he didn't show it. He grunted, said, "Very well," and, after giving a bow of the head to Korra, opened the door and ushered them in.

Pakku rose as they entered. He stepped around the table, thanked Alignak, who closed the door, then clasped each of their hands in turn, first Katara, each of whose cheeks he pecked, then Korra, to whom he gave a dip of the head. He stepped back, smiled. "Thank you for joining me," he said, voice light, but serious. "I'm afraid we have a lot to discuss before we arrive in Omashu."

Katara did her best to smile. "It's our pleasure, Master Pakku. And might I say, once again, that you have a lovely cabin."

It was true. Technically, this was only a trading vessel, making a last long run before the late autumn storms arrived in force. Pakku, as it happened, owned the ship, and had the right to stay in the owner's cabin. Technically, Katara, Sokka, and their charge didn't exist, and if anyone asked, they were, at most, merely Pakku's servants. And of _course_ they were. Why else were they sharing a tiny servant's cabin? See? _Not the Avatar at all. How ridiculous!_

This cabin, though, was big, grand, and rather fancy, and thus, Pakku, Katara knew, positively loathed it. The old man may have been born into the highest reaches of Northern Water Tribe society, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Still, he had his reasons. After all, given the recent…ahem…_incident_, which the Fire Nation was busy hushing up, he had every reason to make a rare personal voyage, make sure everything was running smoothly. Why else would he be here?

_Why else, indeed? _The thought always made Katara smile.

After thanking Katara for her compliment, Pakku turned his attention to Korra. He gave her a wide, grandfatherly smile, a gesture Korra didn't even bother to return. Korra just stood there, looking up, eyes blank, face slack. When Pakku asked after her health on this _fine_ morning, the girl merely shrugged and gave a grunt that could go either way. For a moment, Katara was tempted to cuff the girl upside the head for being rude, a temptation with gave her a little jolt of fright. _What am I, my mother?_

Breakfast itself was plain fare, accompanied by thick, black tea. Katara watched her companions eat, reminding herself with every second not to stare. Korra nibbled absently, which wasn't unusual; food never had interested her much. It was Sokka who worried her, though. Her brother, the man who could inhale a three-course meal and go back for seconds, picked at his food, idly pushing it around the plate. He sipped tea with jerky, mechanical movements, and kept smoking cigarette after cigarette down to his fingers. His face had a slight flush to it, and Katara couldn't help but worry that he had slipped something stronger into his tea.

Which left Katara to talk shop, which, she reflected, wasn't all that strange. It was a thought that made her both very proud, and very tired.

"So," she opened, settling down at the table and helping herself to some seaweed noodles, "how goes the plan? Any changes?"

Pakku shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of, my dear. As Alignak no doubt told you, we arrive in Omashu this afternoon. We wait for evening, and then, as all of the port workers head home and all of the sailors head for the bars, we simply slip you into the crowds and you head for the inn that we discussed."

Katara nodded, washing down a bite of noodles with a sip of tea. "And you're quite sure that this inn is safe?"

Pakku chuckled. "It should be; it's run by a family from the South."

"Which clan?" Sokka asked, not looking particularly interesting in the conversation.

"Nunavik, I believe," Pakku answered, after a moment's pause for thought.

Sokka nodded. "Good; just so long as it's not the Inupiat." That done, he nodded once more, then returned to contemplating his cigarette. The whole exchange made Katara want to find a wooden spoon and smack him, which, she felt, was a good sign.

She settled for rolling her eyes and saying, "Gods forbid," before turning back to Pakku. Her brother had always been too caught up in the conflicts that divided the various Southern clans for her tastes. It annoyed her, to be honest; after all, playing one clan against the other was how the Fire Nation had always made sure the Southern Water Tribes never really became a force to reckon with during the War.

"So," she said, pushing the noodles in her bowl around, "we haven't really had the chance to talk about this, and, to be perfectly honest, the literature available on board is a bit scanty-"

"For which I apologize," Pakku said, looking apologetic. "I'm not much of a reader, and it didn't occur to me to stock up before we left Iqaluit."

_No, it wouldn't_, she thought, rather uncharitably. _Women aren't allowed to learn how to read in the North. It's a big part of the reason why Gran-Gran left. _She didn't say this, though, not least because she knew it was unfair. From the beginning, Pakku had been just about the only friend they'd had in the North, the only one (_other than Yue_) who didn't completely ignore the siblings and concentrate wholly on the Avatar. Later, she found out that this was because he felt responsible for driving Gran-Gran away, even though Gran-Gran herself often admitted that it had had nothing to do with him. He was a good, kind man, who had taught her much. Still…

_It gets boring on this ship, and I want a gods-damn decent book._

"It's quite alright," she said, with a look that said it was anything but, "I've managed. I'm sure there'll be plenty to read where we're going. Thing is…what can you tell me about Omashu? I'm afraid I don't know much."

Pakku nodded, sipping his tea. "Well, I'm fairly certain you probably already know the most important things. It's still the second largest city in what we once called the Earth Kingdom, and the center of Fire Nation power in the southern regions. There's a substantial military presence in the city, and a good chunk of the population these days are administrators from the Fire Nation, their families, and quite a few colonists."

"Which is why you've advised us to stick to the parts of town we discussed."

"Precisely. They're not the _best _parts of town, but they have the advantage of rarely seeing our firebending _friends_." This last word he said with scorn; he had fought in the waning days of the War, losing a brother in the great battle where then Crown Prince Iroh shattered the Northern fleet and brought the North to terms. The resentment he still carried in his heart was often palpable.

"Well," she replied, smiling in a way that said she felt his pain, "that's quite alright. As you know, we're quite familiar with places that couldn't be called _the best_."

"Or even, _tolerably decent_," Sokka threw in, with enough of his old wit to make Katara's heart leap for joy.

"You can say that again," she replied, hoping to egg him on.

It worked, too, because he smiled and said, "I believe I just did?"

Before Katara could snark back, Pakku cleared his throat and said, showing that, for all his goodness, he was still a bit of a stuffy old man, "_Anyways_, as I was saying, so long as you don't linger in Omashu, you should be quite alright. You're due to meet Lobsang at the Prancing Ostrich-Horse tomorrow night, after dark."

At the mention of the name _Lobsang_, Korra finally came to life. Her eyes lit up, and she raised her gaze to Pakku and said, with hope in her voice, "Wait…we get to see Lobsang?"

Pakku frowned, looking confused, while Katara sighed and said, "Yes, Korra. We told you this."

Korra blinked, lost. "You…_you did?_"

Sokka sighed. Looking deep into the plate of food he hadn't really eaten, he said, through gritted teeth, "Yeah, we told you this, like, _days ago._"

Korra's wide eyes swung to Sokka. They were the first words he had said to her since they had left the North, and she looked like he had just reached over and slapped her. For a moment, her lips trembled, and a smaller part of Katara than she was comfortable with wanted to reach out and punch her brother in the face. But she didn't, and Korra didn't cry. She just sniffed, and went back to pushing food around on her plate, muttering, "Well, it'll be nice to see Lobsang again…" A sniff, and then, "I've missed him…"

"We all have," Katara said, trying to give her brother an evil eye while she gave Korra a kind one, and hoping the two didn't somehow get mixed up. Returning her attention to Pakku, she said, "And what of the Crown Prince?"

"You mean, the _Crown Douchebag?_" Sokka growled.

Pakku's face showed a quick moment of distaste, before he pushed it away and said, "Last we heard, he was in Ba Sing Se, about a month ago, conducting some sort of inspection. Rumor has it that he's not exactly in good graces with his father."

Katara felt a brief flutter of pride at that. "Well, we did our best."

Pakku laughed. "I'm sure you did. That said, it was a month ago, and we haven't heard anything definitive since then. Lobsang will know more, being on the ground, as it were."

"Well," Katara said, feeling her whole being slump down into the floor, "at least _somebody _knows _something_ for a change."

_About anything_, she thought, but didn't feel it was necessary to say.

* * *

Hey guys, I'm back! And I bet you were just sitting there, fretting away, wondering if I'd forgotten about all this...either that, or not thinking about me at all, because, come on, you've got better things to do. At least, I hope so.

ANYHOO, where was I? RIGHT! FIC AND STUFF! There's going to be a shit-ton of updates today and tomorrow, but I also feel I should address the reason for the long pause. Basically, I was in Mexico from the 26th to the 3rd. Why? Because most of my wife's family still lives there, and it was time I met them. How did it go? Well, the food was _fan-fucking-tastic_, the weather was quite nice (except for the discovery that Mexicans, like Californians, tend not to be in possession of home heating units worth the name), I discovered a new favorite beer, and the people were great. I saw a lot of cool things and lit of fireworks that, even in Mexico, are outrageously illegal, learned a bunch of new words (fun fact: the word for _clown_ in Spanish is _payaso_, and this is, apparently, my stick-in-the-mud mother-in-law's [and I say that with love, btw] favorite word), and just in general had a pretty solid time. That said, having to filter even the most basic conversations through my bilingual wife got really old, really fast, and I'm glad to be back in a country where I can understand the gas station attendants (which doesn't seem that important, until one tries to buy a pack of smokes and a bottle of water).

Also, I have cool money! Seriously, Mexico, like every country, beats the shit out of the US when it comes to cool-looking currency.

After the 3rd, my wife and I partied with some friends, spent Sunday sleeping off the hangover, and I spent Monday and Tuesday getting the apartment back in order, running errands, re-stocking the fridge, and just in general being a good househusband. Also, my wife and I had to take some time to cough out all the dust we swallowed, which isn't a knock on Mexico so much as it's a comment on how fucking _dusty_ the state of Durango is.

(Fun Fact: In Mexican, _Durango_ is said _much_ more cool. Basically, you give a popping roll to the _r_ and say the _ran_ with an open _a_. Seriously, try it; it sounds much better than in English.)

(Other Fun Fact: In Mexico, Bruce Wayne is known, in the translated comics, as _Bruno Diaz_. How fucking badass is that? I swear, everything - even my lameass name - sounds better in Spanish.)

(Yet Another Fun Fact: In Mexico, my name - which is, for the record, outrageously white - is considered strange and slightly exotic. Weird, right?)

Alright, I swear, I'm done. I'm going to talk about the story in the _next_ author's note, as well as do some shout outs. Stay tuned!


	11. ZUKO III

ZUKO

IF THERE WAS A PART OF BEING IN A PERMANENT BASE AND NOT IN SOME RAMSHACKLE, HASTILY THROWN-TOGETHER FORT OUT IN THE REBELLIOUS WILDS THAT ZUKO LIKED BEST, IT WOULD HAVE TO BE THAT, ON A _REAL_ BASE, THEY HAD OFFICERS' CLUBS. Out in the field, the _officers' club_ was merely whichever officer's tent the other officers decided to drink in today, or, when not on combat operations (_a loose term if there ever was one_, Zuko had always thought), say, back at aforementioned _thrown-together fort_, the _officers' club_ was simply a rickety table in a rickety officers' mess.

Here, though, in what passed for _civilization_ outside of garrison duty in the cities? Here, _officers' club_ meant a real, genuine _club_, or, as it happened, a bar. There were tables and chairs and a rather exquisite-looking oaken bar, shined and polished. There was real booze and real food, and all one had to do to get in was be an officer and make sure one's duty uniform was correct (_there were standards to maintain, after all_). A young officer, far from home, could sit down with his friends, relax, have a drink, and do what soldiers do best: Gossip. Sure, the booze wasn't top-notch, and the cigarettes were standard Army-issue, pre-packed and stuffed with harsh, cheap tobacco, but it was still the closest one could come to _being a human being_ without lucking into a posting in, say, Ba Sing Se.

_Though, _Zuko reflected as he followed Toru into the club, _judging from the rumors flying around the past year, Ba Sing Se isn't the quiet billet that it once was. _If the stories (_carefully suppressed though they were_) were to believed, there had been riots, acts of vandalism and assault against Fire Nation citizens, and, increasingly, attacks on armed soldiers themselves. And it wasn't just in the occupied Earth Kingdom that tensions were on the rise. Even back in the Homeland, there were stories of increased levels of draft dodging, desertion, and, according to one story that Zuko very much believed, a full-scale draft riot in Kagoshima, the home port for the entire Southern Fleet.

That last bit of news always brought a smile to Zuko's face. He could only _imagine_ how nervous that would make the _powers that be_ feel.

The day had passed rather uneventfully. After the briefing with the Captain, the officers had checked on their men at drill, then gone back to the barracks to pour over the briefing materials. Before lunch, there was yet another briefing, this time with the non-commissioned officers of the company, and then, after lunch, one _more_ briefing, or, five briefings, wherein the officers addressed their platoons. Lately, the afternoons had been taken up with prep for the inspection, but now, the officers inspected each of their individual platoons, so that they knew what to spend the next day fighting the quartermasters for. This particular delicate subject was the topic of a rant by Tsurukawa at Ryu and Yukawa, when the three joined Zuko and Toru at the isolated back-corner table that had been carefully chosen for today's meeting.

"So," Tsurukawa was saying as he plopped himself down in a chair, "I look at that asshole Kuroda," that being one of the more unreasonable quartermasters' clerks, "and I ask him, very carefully, why the fuck the fucking parts for the fucking wheel on the fucking wagon hasn't been fixed yet." In his fury, the upper-class accent he had worked so hard to acquire was slipping, turning his voice into an awkward cross between a general and a grizzled platoon sergeant. "And you know what that little fucker says to me?"

"What did that little fucker say to you?" Toru asked, beckoning over one of the locals who did odd jobs on such bases, such as serving drinks in the officers' club.

Tsurukawa had stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and was lighting it with an angry snap of his fingers. "Why, that little fucker had the nerve to look me right in the eye and say, _Because you didn't fill out a requisition form for them._"

"But wait," Ryu says, with all the wide-eyed innocence of a soldier too new to have lost faith in humanity and the quartermaster's corps, which, as far as Zuko was concerned, were two entirely different things, "didn't you fill that out, like, two weeks ago?"

Tsurukawa slammed a fist onto table, making the drinks Toru and Zuko were already sipping jump. "I didn't just fill out and file that gods-damn form two fucking weeks ago, I went in last week and this same little fucker _told me they were working on it._ Can you guys believe that bullshit?"

The others made appropriate sounds of sympathy, while Toru, _being Toru_, leaned forward and said, "Yeah, but, in their defense, things are a bit crazy over there lately, what with the inspection and all."

"That's not what you said last week," Zuko muttered, smiling into his glass.

"Hey," Toru replied, lighting his own cigarette, "look, I got a bit heated, okay? And can you blame me? Is it really that fucking hard to get ahold of twenty pairs of fucking _socks?_"

"Apparently," Zuko admitted, stubbing out his old cigarette and lighting a new one. Before he could continue, though, the waiter appeared, taking everyone's drink orders. As soon as he left, Zuko returned his attention to Tsurukawa and said, "So, what're you going to do?"

Tsurukawa shrugged, flopping back rather nonchalantly in his chair. "What else can I do? I told Noboru," that being his platoon sergeant, "to shake the NCO Tree and scrounge up the parts. If that doesn't work, I'll just send a couple of the boys out to steal them."

Zuko looked to Toru. "Isn't that what you ended up having to do with the socks?"

Toru shrugged, looking innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about. Also, fuck Third Battalion."

"Hey, about that," Ryu said, leaning forward, a confused look on his face, "why are we always shitting on Third Battalion?"

"Because that's what soldiers do," Tsurukawa replied, much more relaxed now that he had had his bitch fit, "talk shit about any unit that's not theirs."

"Yeah," Ryu said, not looking at all enlightened, "but why don't we shit on Second Battalion?"

"Because," Zuko said, polishing off his drink and taking a new one from the waiter who had just reappeared, "back in the spring, the idiot we were then cursed with for a battalion commander walked us into an ambush, and Second Battalion saved our asses, so they get a temporary pass."

Ryu laughed. "Wait…I thought it was _you_ who saved everyone's asses?"

Zuko frowned, while the others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It seemed that _the moment_, as it were, had finally arrived. It wasn't just that he had never learned how to handle praise; that was pretty much a constant in his life. The thing was…_he really didn't want to have this conversation. _He hated it, hated every fucking minute of it. He remembered when he heard that the officer Ryu had replaced wasn't coming back from hospital (on account of having his legs crushed in that very ambush). His heart had fallen into his feet and his mouth had gone dry. He had had to get up from the table where he had heard the news and walk outside, gulping in stale summer air, because the news wasn't just horrible for the officer (whom Zuko considered a friend), but it also meant that, once again, Zuko would have to sit down with a new, wide-eyed, idealistic kid and come agonizingly close to committing treason.

_Plus, they never quite look at me the same ever again, do they…?_

He took a deep breath, let it out, downed half his glass in one go. _But it has to be done, doesn't it? If I want to stay where I am, continue doing what I do, it has to be done._

_ Fuck my life sometimes._

"Honestly," Zuko said, looking deep into his glass, "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

Ryu blinked, obviously thrown off by that. "But…"

"That's actually what we're here to talk to you about," Toru said, cutting in, much to Zuko's relief.

"What do you mean?" Ryu asked. "What has that got to do with…well…_anything?_"

"It has _everything_ to fucking do with it," Tsurukawa barked, waving over the waiter and ordering a bottle of hot sake and some cups.

"I really don't follow," Ryu said, shaking his head in confusion.

"Yeah…most don't at first." Zuko found himself staring at the smoke rising from the tip of his cigarette, contemplating how he had ever gotten here. There seemed to be so many steps, so many small, ignorant movements, so many stops along the way, so many points at which it all could have gone another way. He could've heeded his mother's advice. He could've asked Uncle to _not_ stick him on the bullshit committee his father was allowed to run. He could've _not_ trusted in the reliability of his cousin.

_I could've kept my gods-damn mouth shut._

He smirked. _But then again, I wouldn't be here, would I? I'd still be there, and fuck that. _At the end of the day, four solid years away from Palace made an eye and half his face seem like a small price to pay.

It was just the conversations like this that made it hard.

"So," Zuko said, finally fixing his gaze on Ryu, "you ever wondered why the guys call me _Your Royal Highness_ from time-to-time?"

Ryu shrugged, looking utterly lost. "Um…not really? I figured it had something to do with your slightly haughty demeanor and that outrageously posh accent of yours."

That brought him up short. Zuko rounded on Toru and barked, "I do _not _have a haughty demeanor…do I?"

Toru waved a hand through the air. "To people who don't know you, I _guess_ it can look that way."

"I definitely thought you had a stick up your ass, first I met you," Tsurukawa added, rather unhelpfully, Zuko thought.

Yukawa, typically, settled for a grunt and a shrug.

"Well," Ryu said, looking a bit embarrassed, "I didn't mean it like that…I mean, it's only _slight_, and hey, I don't know you very well yet…"

Zuko silenced him with a wave, mentally promising to make the others _pay_, first chance he got. _Yukawa's socks are __**definitely**__ getting spice thrown in them._ "_Whatever_. Point is, it's not just a stupid nickname. You ever heard of a Prince named Zuko?"

"Um…kind of?" Ryu reached up and rubbed the back of his head. "Prince Ozai's son, the one no one's seen in a while?"

Zuko patted his chest. "Well, that's me, one in the same."

Ryu's jaw dropped. "Wow…_really?_ I mean, I thought your name was kind of…_odd_, I mean, what with _Tokugawa_ and all, but…I mean…what's a _royal fucking prince_ of the _actual fucking blood _doing with a front-line infantry unit? I mean…don't you guys typically do your National Service on generals' staffs and shit?"

"Well," Toru said, reaching over and giving Zuko's shoulder a manly squeeze, "as it so happens, our Zuko here, while _great_ at being an officer, utterly fucking _sucked_ at being a Prince."

Ryu chuckled. "Yeah, I can see that…still…" A moment came, the moment Zuko always looked for, and always dreaded, when wheels turned and clicked in someone's head and they did the simple act of putting two-and-two together. Ryu pursed his lips, opened them, closed them, opened them again, and finally, after what seemed like an excruciatingly long time to Zuko, asked _The Question:_

"Wait…this doesn't have anything to do with how you got your scar, does it?"

Zuko didn't even have to close his eye to see it all again. His father's face, the terrified looks of the other men in the room, Zuko's own voice, coming as if from far away, the promise that _pain would be his teacher_, the flash of light, the pain, _the pain…_

_ And then waking up in the hospital, his sister sound asleep by the bed, clutching his hand…and later, her voice, choked with angry tears, vowing that their family would pay…_

"It does," Zuko admitted, blinking at the sake bottle that seemed to have appeared in the center of the table, "but, we're not going to talk about that right now."

Ryu sighed, looking disappointed; Zuko had no doubt that he had probably already entered the regimental betting pool on the subject. "Well…okay…then…what _are_ we here to talk about?"

"We're here," Toru said, giving Zuko's shoulder a final squeeze before taking his hand away, "to talk about what that means, and, most importantly, about the Avatar."

Ryu threw his hands up in surrender. "Alright, now I haven't got the _slightest _fucking clue what's going on here."

Tsurukawa laughed. "It's alright; it took me a good _week_ to process, when they had this conversation with me."

"Huh," Ryu said, then, to Yukawa, "what about you, Yuk? Did you get all of this, when they told you?"

Yukawa grunted and shot Ryu a look that said, _I figured it all out on my own_, which was true, because that's how Yukawa rolled. It was a credit to Ryu that he had already figured out what Yukawa's complex system of grunts and shrugs and _looks_ meant.

Ryu gave a slow, not at all enlightened nod. "Alright then…so," he continued turning back to Toru and I, "what _does_ all this mean?"

"I was packed off to the Army so I'd stop being an embarrassment and to head off a scandal," Zuko said, pouring everyone a shot of sake, "with the hope being that I'd get myself quickly and quietly killed." He took the shot, poured another. "Failing that, the hope was that I'd at least do well enough to never have to be heard from again."

"In other words," Toru said, picking up the thread, "it's important that, when Zuko does something incredible and outrageous in the field-"

"Like he did when he saved all of our asses from that idiot battalion commander we had," Tsurukawa said.

"Right. When he does something like that…well…_it's best not to mention it._"

"The less attention I attract," Zuko finished, "the better, not just for me, but for all of you. In fact," he continued, leaning forward, face deadly serious, "if you know what's good for you, should anyone from outside the regiment ask, not only am I a terrible officer, but you hate my guts, and can't wait until you get the chance for another assignment."

Ryu shook his head, raising a finger in protest. "Alright, I'm calling bullshit on that right there. Just about everyone in the regiment seems to think you're pretty good at what you do."

"Eh," Zuko said, struggling not to blush, "they're just cracking wise."

Toru rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop that, Zuko. But," back to Ryu, "in answer to your question…surely you wonder why the Ninety-Fourth was stuck out in the hot zones for so long, or why we've seen so much action, or why no one ever seems to get promoted."

_Which means that you all very well might die someday because you were unlucky enough to know me_, Zuko thought, taking another shot of sake to dull the shame.

Ryu, meanwhile, was laughing. "Which is funny, because it's exactly due to all of that combat experience that I asked for this unit." When this was greeted by a wall of shocked looks (_even Yukawa looks surprised_, Zuko noted with wonder), the boy awkwardly shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. "What? Highborn nobles can afford to coast on their clan's legacies and shuffle papers around some general's desk; a merchant's son has no choice but to get out in the field, if he wants his military service to mean anything."

Tsurukawa sighed, downing a shot of sake. "Man, sometimes, I swear, our country is just _so_ fucked up."

"You should try being royalty," Zuko pointed out.

"Fuck that," was Tsurukawa's reply.

"Word," Toru added. "I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

Zuko decided the moment had come to crack a smile. "Even that asshole Tsukazaki?"

Toru laughed. "Alright, _maybe_ him…"

"Who's _Tsukazaki?_" Ryu asked.

"The head of the regiment's _Kempei_ detachment," that being, the head of the regiment's complement of the military secret police.

Ryu grimaced. "Ah…you mean the fat asshole who gives the security briefing while wiping his face and farting?"

"That's the one," Zuko said, "only I wouldn't go around say that too loudly."

"Well, _duh_. Still…alright, I get all of this. Zuko's an actual, honest-to-Agni _prince_, and he's gotta keep a low profile…I get that. I mean, not really, but I get it enough to follow through. What's this got to do with the Avatar?"

"Well, that's simple." Zuko paused to light a new cigarette, took a big, dramatic puff (_after all, he wasn't royal for nothing_), and only after making a big production of blowing out the smoke, did he finish:

"The Avatar is back in the Earth Kingdom, or soon will be. Which means, we might run into them." _Again_, he thought, sharing conspiratorial glances at Toru and Tsurukawa, all while a pair of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, blue as the deepest ocean, floated up before him. "And if that happens…well…if you run into them, let them go."

"Don't harm or hinder them in any way," Toru continued. "In fact, do your best to pretend they don't exist, and then forget you ever saw them."

"Because if you don't," Tsurukawa cut in, "if you decide to be a fucking hero, it's all of our fucking necks."

"Because," Zuko finished, looking Ryu dead in the eye, "if I catch the Avatar, I become a direct threat to my cousin, and I won't last a day past his coronation, assuming I even make it that far."

"And neither will anyone who was there when it happened," Toru said, voice dark and ominous.

At first, Ryu didn't do anything. He sat there, face blank, staring at the cigarette between his fingers. Slowly, as if in a dream, he reached out, tapped out some of the ash, pulled back in. He took a deep breath, let it out, the repeated the process once more. When realization came, it was very slow, almost imperceptible. It started at the corners of his mouth, and then, before Zuko's eyes, blossomed into a light shining forth from golden eyes. And then, just when his frown was about to turn into a smile, Tsurukawa decided to be Tsurukawa.

"And, if you _should_ happen to run into the Avatar, look for a tall, twenty-two-year-old, dark-skinned, brown-haired girl with big blue eyes."

Ryu turned, looking skeptical. "Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because," Tsurukawa said, ignoring the daggers Zuko was sending him, "and you'll have to trust me on this, the sight of our friend Zuko swooning like a love-drunk teenager is something that you do _not_ want to miss out on witnessing."

If Zuko had still had the whiskey glass he started out with, he would've thrown it at Tsurukawa. As it was, he had to settle for flipping the man the bird.

* * *

That was fun, wasn't it? This is still fun, right? I don't have very many reviews, so I'm feeling all needy and a bit lost. I like this fic, and I want you guys to like it, too.

Alright, the neediness is over. I promise. Is this a face that would lie?

_*hurriedly kicks the promises of unlimited fluff that started "Wild, Wild Love" out of sight*_

ANYHOO, on to the fic! So, what's going on thus far? Basically, the Avatar's quest is two years old, and the first two years, well..._didn't go well_. Things got side-tracked and messed up, and something really horrible happened in the North (Fun Fact: _Iqaluit _is the capital of Nunavik Territory in Canada; also, it's ridiculously fun to type). Meanwhile, the war in the Earth Kingdom continues to grind on, and our favorite exiled prince is doing his best to stay out of the Palace's notice (which sets up some nice dramatic irony, I should like to think; also, some plain irony, too). In pursuit of this, he sits down young Lieutenant Mishima, and swears the boy into the pact he's already sworn his fellow officers into.

Which is a summary of what I just wrote, so...ignore it as you please. Now, shout-outs!

First, to kaylinthehuman, I must humbly apologize for not following you before. This has been corrected; if it makes things better, please keep in mind that I'm the guy who typically takes at least a few days to answer personal e-mails, and a week to listen to voicemails. Drives my wife up a wall.

Second, to storyoftheunknownfangirl, I apologize for the typos. I promised myself this wouldn't be a problem this time around, but I was in a hurry when I posted the first cycle of the story. From here on out, I intend for this not to be an issue! I'm even re-reading the chapters before I post them, like a real author! See, it only takes a year of you guys teasing me and my wife, while reading some original work I did, gleefully calling out every mistake, for me to mend my ways!

Also, storyoftheunknownfangirl..._shhhhhhhhhhhhh!_ You know what I'm talking about! _*wags finger*_

So, you guys still enjoying yourselves? I hope so!

PS - For the curious, Zuko's last name is _Tokugawa_ because the asshole needed a family name, and his dynasty needed to be called something. My choice will make sense as I go on in this fic and flesh out the world.


	12. TORU I

TORU

THAT NIGHT, LIEUTENANT WATANABE TORU LAID ON HIS BUNK, STARING AT THE CEILING ABOVE HIM, AND THOUGHT ABOUT THE FIRST TIME HE HAD EVER MET A BOY NAMED ZUKO.

The meeting itself, or the fact that it might occur, was not, in and of itself, unexpected. It was widely known that there was prince in the Royal Family who was Toru's age, and that, at fourteen, this prince would go to the Royal Military Academy, like every other male member of royalty and nobility, along with the occasional merchants' son and gifted commoner. That was, after all, one of the primary ideas behind the Academy: Not only would it produce a professional officer corps for the military, but young, tolerably-born (or, at least, tolerably gifted) boys would make the kinds of connections and friendships they would need in adulthood. It was, in many ways, one of the most vital items on what Toru often called _The Noble Checklist of Nobility_, which was why more than a few, especially those from the upper reaches of the social ladder, viewed the four required years at the Academy as a chore, a burden to be shouldered.

Toru, though? Toru viewed it as his big chance to _shine_, to break free from the burden of being the spare son of a retainer's retainer, from having grown up as low down the noble ladder as one could be without becoming a commoner. Here, all he had to do was work hard, do his best (_and, if possible, completely redefine what his __**best**__ actually was_), distinguish himself in the military career that would follow, and the sky was the limit. It was, in short, his big break, and though he was a bundle of nerves as he carried his bags into the barracks set aside for first years, he was also so excited that he was on the verge of tears.

None of which prepared him for meeting a royal prince who didn't see the Academy as either an opportunity or a burden, but, rather, _as a vacation._

Toru would never forget how they met. The barracks was a sea of barely organized chaos. Instructors and prefects barked and growled, while young boys struggled with bags and belongings, since servants were forbidden at the Academy. Toru, for his part, couldn't stop smiling. He practically _pranced_ right up to the bunk that was assigned to him, dodging around angry prefects and weaving through milling, confused teenage boys. To be honest, he was in a bit of a hurry. See, he was determined to get the bottom bunk, and he knew he had to be fast to make it happen. Even nobles as low as himself didn't sleep in bunk beds at home, and he didn't imagine that he would enjoy being on the top, so far above the ground.

Which was why, when he first caught sight of the boy carefully and efficiently making his bed and unpacking his things, he felt a sharp twinge of annoyance. _Gods-damn it_, he thought, barely resisting the urge to stomp his foot in irritation. _Shithead got here first_. It didn't occur to him that he was looking at royalty. After all, for all that the Academy espoused a philosophy of _all are equal here_, it was still the Fire Nation. Sure, the vast majority stayed in the barracks and eschewed both privacy and servants, but for a select few, such as royal princes and the sons of the dozen-or-so most elite noble clans, the rules were ignored. _They_ still got servants, and rooms of their own, and all sorts of special treatment. The idea that someone of that caliber would not only carry their own bags, but would, indeed, choose to sleep in the barracks with everyone else, was too ludicrous of an idea to even contemplate.

Deciding that it was best to just grin and bear it, and hope that he could eventually talk the other boy into trading places, he shouldered his bag and went right up to the boy. Tossing his bag onto the top bunk, Toru put on a smile that he hoped hid how irked he was and cleared his throat. The boy turned, looking both surprised and curious. Without hesitating, Toru gave a shallow bow, saying, "I suppose you're my bunkmate." He rose. "I'm Watanabe Toru. And you…?"

For a moment, the boy didn't seem to know what to say. It was almost as if (_or so Toru thought in the moment_) no one had ever bothered to ask his name before, as if he had never before met someone who didn't know who he was. The boy blinked a few times, looking lost, before giving an awkward bow and saying, "A pleasure to meet you, Toru-san. I'm…" And here, he hesitated, for reasons that would be obvious to Toru in a moment. His eyes darted about, first left, then right, then back again. He actually _gulped, _rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his feet. Toru was a bit thrown off; he had never, in his entire life, met someone so awkward. After what felt like a long time, the boy finally gave himself a little shake, put on a brave smile, and said, "I'm…Tokugawa Zuko…" His voice trailed off, as if he was embarrassed by his own name, though Toru couldn't imagine why.

In fact, Toru couldn't imagine much of anything. All he could really do was stare. He was pretty sure his mouth dropped wide open. His mind went blank, and the only thing he could think of was that he had, just moments before, been considering the idea of barking at _a royal prince_ and demanding that the boy trade bunks with him. He was suddenly _very _happy that he'd held his tongue.

Meanwhile, the prince in question was trying to look anywhere but at Toru's face. "Look," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and obviously trying not to blush, "it's not a big deal, alright? You don't have to treat me any different…"

That snapped Toru right out of his shock. He clamped his mouth shut and said, in a hushed tone, "But…_you're a prince…_"

Zuko actually chuckled at that. "Yeah…well…don't hold it against me, alright…?"

"But…" Toru took a calming breath, pressed on. "But…you're a _prince_…shouldn't you be, like, in the special quarters?"

To that, all Zuko could seem to do was shrug. "Yeah, well…_son of the spare_ doesn't really carry much weight, even among royalty."

"It's still royalty," the spare son of minor nobility pointed out.

"Well…yeah…_I guess…?_" A shrug, and once more, the hand was rubbing the back of the neck. "I mean…I dunno. It's only there if they want it, and me, well…I guess I felt it defeated the purpose, you know?"

Toru didn't want to laugh, but he couldn't help it. "You're crazy! If I had a chance to sleep in my own digs, with a comfy bed and a couple servants to wait on me, I'd jump at it! I mean…why _willingly_ choose _this?_" He spread his hands, taking in all of the barracks, which, even though it was large, was already starting to feel tight and cramped.

And just as Toru would never forget actually _meeting_ Prince Zuko (_for, to Toru, Zuko would always be a prince_), he would _definitely_ never forget how a prince stood before him, smiling a faint, weak little smile, and said, "Eh, I've always wanted a bunk bed, you know?"

That was when Toru knew he had made a friend. Struggling not to burst into hysterics, he reached out, slugged Zuko lightly on the arm, and said, "You know what, Zuko? You're alright."

It was a beautiful moment, even when Toru remembered how the look Zuko made when he said that almost broke his heart.

* * *

So, there's actually a lot going on in here. Points to those of you who see it. And what does the person with the most points win? Well, other than being my second-favorite fan (sorry, the wife took the top spot), you win...I dunno...if we're ever in the same zip code, I'll buy you a beer. Or a glass of wine. Or a thing of juice. Whatever works for you.

Oddly enough, I almost cut this out. It's a holdover from the original form of the story. I'm glad I kept it, though; I'm a fan. Plus, what's the point of if you can't tell your inner editor to go take a hike occasionally?

PS - Just a fun note...zulfi? Your review made me smile. I got the e-mail as I was standing in line at Wal-Mart (had to run some errands), and I thought, _Heh, they're going to be super happy when they see Chapter 9. _I hope I made your day!


	13. ZUKO IV

ZUKO

THEY SAY THAT AN ARMY MARCHES, NOT ON ITS FEET, BUT ON ITS STOMACH. Both of these statements, as far as Zuko was concerned, were bald-faced lies. The truth, he long ago discovered, was far, _far_ more terrifying, because the simple reality was that an army, or, at the very least, a Fire Nation army, marches not on its feet, nor on its stomach, but, rather, on its paper. Hordes of paper. Rivers of paper. Mountains of paper.

_So much gods-damn paper,_ he thought, alongside a pain that pierced his temple and almost made him wince.

It had been a long, exhausting morning for Lieutenant Tokugawa. It was the day after the Captain had given them their orders, and for the junior officers of Zuko's company, it had begun a good hour before reveille. The night before had gone extraordinarily well, culminating in Ryu taking his oath to abide by the company's private code with an eagerness Zuko had found touching. A few hours of sleep had followed, then the real work had begun. Morning drill had been cut short to allow for equipment inspections, which, in turn, led to running from place-to-place to get various odds and ends fixed or replaced, whatever the case called for. Then, more drill, a few briefings, another meeting with the Captain. Lunch, as Zuko's growling stomach made clear to him, was rapidly approaching, then, after that, another briefing with his non-coms. After _that_, another quick inspection, and then, no doubt, more frantic running, followed by the big company-wide inspection by the Captain after dinner.

Oh, and more drill. _Always the drill._ And a possible midnight hike in full battle-rattle to get the boys limbered up. Then sleep, more of the same tomorrow, probably another company-wide inspection, more running around, catch some sleep, and then, _and only then_, would they get to set out on their assignment.

So, to say that the superior sneer on the face of the REMF before him made Zuko's blood boil and his head ache even _more_ would definitely be something of an understatement.

Alas, he thought, struggling hard to control what had once been an infamous temper (_and which still had its moments_), the times when a prince, no matter how disgraced, could roast anyone he wanted were long gone. Thus, instead of setting the building on fire (_at least, doing so outside of my own fantasies,_ he thought with savage glee), Zuko had no choice but to take a deep breath, pinch his nose, and try again.

"Alright, look, I really don't have time for this, so, in plain Nihongo, can you just give me the fucking socks?"

Behind the counter before him stood a clerk that Zuko could not help but think of as _a little weasel of a twerp_, which, yes, Zuko know was completely unfair, the man had a job to do, and probably never enough time or resources to do it, all while dealing with irate officers at the ends of their tethers, but, _gods-dammit, I just want some fucking __**socks.**_ Morishima was his name, and the man (_whose face, _Zuko felt in that heated moment_, looked remarkably punchable_) simply smiled and calmly adjusted his thick, round glasses, all while saying, "Now, Lieutenant Tokugawa, I do believe that I've already explained the problem to you."

"Well," Zuko replied, feeling his temper curl in his gut like a length of molten barbed wire, "_obviously_ you explanation left something to be desired, since I'm repeating myself." _Either that, or your explanation is utter komodo-rhino shit_.

The smile began to look remarkably like a smirk. "That, or you're just not understanding me, _sir._"

Zuko was suddenly very glad that he didn't have a pencil in his hand, because if he had, he would've snapped it. "You're enjoying this, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

But the clerk certainly took it that way. His face fell, the smirk being replaced by a look of genuine astonishment. "Sir? I can assure you, sir, that I'm enjoying absolutely _none _of this."

For the first time in the entire exchange, Zuko believed him. He couldn't help but suspect that, if the man had a wife, she had to submit a request, in triplicate, just to get the form to request the right to initiate intercourse. This he would do, not out of spite, but rather, because such procedures were only proper.

Naturally, this thought process only made Zuko even angrier.

"Alright, _fine_," he said, pressing his palms flat on the counter and doing his best to tune out the annoyed grumbling from those in line behind him, "whatever, point is, the paperwork is in order. See?" He tapped the forms in front of him. "Here's the proper form, in triplicate, signed and counter-signed and counter-counter-_counter_-fucking-signed, properly dated, with legible handwriting." _Thank you, Yukawa_. "But then, just now, _when I've got shit to do_, the man I sent over here to take care of this comes and tells me there's a problem, which brings me here, before you, to ask, _what's the fucking problem?!_"

The clerk sighed, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. "Is the language necessary, sir?"

Another breath, another pause. Zuko counted to ten, just like his tutors had taught him, and tried again. "Look, Morishima, right?"

The clerk nodded, brightening. "Yes, sir."

"Ah. What's your rank?"

"Lance Corporal, sir."

"Right. What's mine?"

Staying completely in-character, the clerk looked at the paperwork. _And not at the insignia on my fucking uniform right in front of his fucking face __**GAH.**_"Lieutenant, First Grade, sir."

Zuko nodded, doing his best to put on a helpful smile. "Excellent, _Corporal_. Thus, it stands to reason, whatever language I see fit to use is _necessary language_."

The clerk nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I suppose. I still can't fill this request, though, sir."

It was remarkably difficult not to growl in frustration; Zuko would always feel that he deserved a medal for not doing so just then. "And why the fuck not?"

"Because, sir, as I told your man, you requested too many."

Zuko's heart sank to his feet. Try as he could, he couldn't help but notice that the reason, which he had disbelieved when the soldier he had sent to do this told him, sounded _just_ idiotic enough to be insurmountable. "Come again?"

The clerk's face brightened once more. "You see, sir, you requested a fresh issue of socks for forty-two men."

Zuko nodded. "Right. That's how many men are in a platoon, counting myself and the platoon sergeant."

"Ah!" He raises a finged, then set on the counter Zuko's platoon's latest official roll sheet. "But, according to _this_, at present, your platoon only musters thirty-seven men."

Zuko was beginning to feel a bit hopeless. "No, you see, we just got some fresh meat. We're at full strength for once. Not even a man on sick call."

The clerk sighed. "Be that as it may, sir, the official roll filed with us says _thirty-seven_. Thus, I can only issue socks for that number."

Zuko took a deep breath, let it out, and counted to _twenty_ this time. "_Fine_," he said, the words grating like a dull knife down his throat, "just issue the socks for thirty-seven and we'll call it even." _I can always scrounge the rest. Yamadera over in Third Company owes me a favor. _"Deal?"

And that was when it all took a turn for the surreal for Zuko, for the clerk shook his head and, completely ignorant of how close he was to being set on fire, said, "Sorry, sir, but I can't. You see, the form is wrong now. You'll need to go back, fill out a new form, in triplicate, for the proper number, then come back later."

_Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…_

"Come again?"

The clerk shrugged. "I'm sorry, sir, but that's just how things have to be done."

_Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six…_

"Listen here," Zuko said, leaning forward, turning his head so that his scar and dead eye were on full display, "the day after tomorrow, my boys and I are going out into the field, where _you've_ never been, and I'll be _damned_ if my boys go out with the proper number of gods-damn _socks!"_

From behind came a chorus of support, scattered cheers, and cries of, _You tell him, Zuko! _If the clerk noticed, though, he didn't show it. Instead, he shrugged once more and said, "I'm sorry, sir, but rules are rules."

_Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three…_

Zuko made a call, right then, that if he made it to a hundred without satisfaction, Lance Corporal Morishima would die in a burst of spontaneous combustion, somehow, _mysteriously._ He was about to inform the Corporal of this conclusion when, suddenly, someone shouted, _"Atten-TION!"_ Without thinking, Zuko spun towards the door and snapped to attention. There, coming in from the light, stood the _Boss Man Himself_, Colonel Kotaro Ryuji, commander of the Ninety-Fourth Infantry Regiment. Every man present bowed, full at the waist, held it, then rose, bows the Colonel then returned. His hard eyes flashed across the room, settling on Zuko, before his face broke into a smile. This filled Zuko with confusion, though not as badly as when the Colonel made a line straight for him.

As the Colonel approached, Zuko couldn't help but compare him to the Captain. While the Captain often resembled everyone's least favorite uncle, Colonel Kotaro was the opposite. He was tall, cultured, extremely well-born, and highly educated, with a politician's charm and a con man's smile. Late in his middle-age, his hair was perfectly greyed and his goatee could not be described as anything but _classy_. He was also a known dissident with problematic opinions and a habit for making the wrong friends. Only one thing had thus far kept him alive: His birth, his military skill, and the fact that this urbane, reputed _ladies' man_, was a demon on the battlefield.

Needless to say, Zuko had liked him the moment he laid eyes on the man.

When he arrived before him, Zuko somehow managed to snap even _more_ to attention, clicking his heels together and bowing once more, before rising and saying, "Colonel, sir."

The Colonel smiled and bowed back. "Lieutenant. How are you today?"

Zuko returned the grin. It was easy to do; so far, Colonel Kotaro held the distinction of being the only authority figure Zuko had ever had who didn't make him sweat and stumble over his words. "Tolerably well, sir. Just dealing with some supply problems."

The Colonel popped a brow. "Oh? What's the problem?"

It was very hard not to bellow in triumph as Zuko sensed the clerk's eyes grow wide with fear, but somehow, he managed. "My company, as you know, is going out into the field soon, and we need a fresh issue of socks, or, at least, my platoon does."

The Colonel nodded, pursing his lips. "I see…" He turned to the clerk, eyes soft and inquisitive. "Morishima, right?"

The clerk tapped his heels and bowed. "Yes, sir."

"Why can't the Lieutenant have his socks, Corporal?"

The clerk bowed once more. "A minor problem with the paperwork, sir. Nothing serious."

"I see," the Colonel said, nodding thoughtfully. "Well, I'm normally all for the rules, but I need the Lieutenant right now, so, if you don't mind, _Corporal_, please be so kind as to fulfill the Lieutenant's request."

Zuko had to give it to the clerk; the man was a man of principle. "But, sir-"

The Colonel really did seem in a hurry, though. _"Corporal."_

The clerk blinked, swallowed, then bowed. "Yes, sir."

The Colonel smiled widely, as if to say, _Don't worry about it, my boy, you're doing a __**fine**__ job_. "And see that they're delivered to his platoon within the hour. Understood?"

The clerk, to Zuko's eyes, looked like he was going to faint at the sheer _impropriety _of the situation, but, somehow, maintained his composure as he made one final bow and said, "Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

The Colonel clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! Now, dismissed, Corporal." The clerk bowed, the Colonel bowed back, and then the Colonel turned to Zuko, who had been watching with utter fascination. "So, Lieutenant, have a moment?"

Zuko suspected that his smile was verging on the obscene, but he didn't particularly care. He just bowed his head and said, "Now I do, sir."

"Wonderful! Mind taking a short stroll?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Excellent. Right this way, please."

And as they walked out, Zuko sent a mental prayer to his sister, thanking the gods that she got him into this particular command.

* * *

I think it's time to admit that, _so, fun fact_, is, like, one of my favorite expressions. It's right up there, _oh, for fuck's sake_, and, of course, _I shit you not._ I used to say _bite me_ a lot, but my wife taught me the errors of my ways.

ANYHOO...

SO, FUN FACT...I didn't make any of this up. I've had quite a few friends and family members in the military (not me, though, for two reasons: One, I'd be the world's worst soldier, and two, when I tried to join up, the combination of my eyesight and a history of childhood bronchitis barred me from combat arms, and I saw no reason to deal with the bullshit that comes with being in the military if I didn't at least get to blow things up), and this (and several other details of Zuko's military service) chapter is inspired by things they've told me. For example, socks really are of vital importance for military operations, or for anything involving a lot of walking; it's why _hiking socks_ are a thing, and not just bullshit designed for making money.

Also, a situation like this happened to a relative of mine during World War Two. It ended up being resolved in pretty much the same way.

Where was I? _Right, story, duh_. Thanks for the reviews! It's always important to remember that, like all writers, I'm an attention whore.

PS - _REMF_ is military slang for a _Rear Echelon Mother-Fucker._ This isn't an insult to those who are in the support arms of the military, by the way. For those in the combat arms, the support arms are like cops: You love them when they help you, and hate them during the occasional times when they don't.


	14. KATARA IV

KATARA

"WOW, WHAT A DUMP."

Normally, when her brother made comments like that, Katara's immediate response was to jab an elbow into his side and remind him that, just because he _thinks _it, doesn't mean that he has to _say_ it. This time, though, Katara could only nod in agreement.

They were standing on a street not far from the waterfront, in a part of Omashu that Katara could only manage to call _shady_. The area was damp and bleak, with a reek of fish and a strange way of seeming dusty, despite a light rain. The bar itself could only be described as _seedy_, seemingly clapped together from scavenged wood ships, leaning as if forever caught in a strong wind. The people staggering in seemed just as drunk as those staggering out, and the heavily painted women leaning against one wall left no doubts as to what their occupation was. With all this evidence, Katara had no alternative but to nod, sigh, pull her hood a little tighter around her face, and say, "You know what? I don't think there's really a word that describes just what this place is."

Beside her, Sokka let out a low whistle. The further away he was from Korra, the more he seemed to come to life, something about which Katara couldn't quite decide how she felt. Just the mere fact of getting off the ship and away from the Northerners seemed to breathe a little bit of his old self back into him. "You've got that right. You sure this is the right place?"

She nodded, running over the directions Pakku had given them. _Left here, right there, blah blah blah. _In reality, it hadn't been that hard to find, just a little frightening to get to. After the walk, it was hard for Katara not to feel that Korra's newfound desire to stay hidden and out of trouble had a bright side.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she said. She gave herself a shake, prepping herself for the next step. "Come on, let's do this."

"Word. I don't like how people are looking at us."

She sighed, rolling her eyes to the heavens for strength, happy that she could still be irritated with her brother. "Well, not to belabor a point, but if you'd just start learning the local lingos, we wouldn't _have_ these problems." _And I wouldn't be stuck translating for you all the gods-damn time._

He scoffed. "And what, deprive you of a chance to show off your superior intelligence?"

She had to giggle at that, both because he had a point, and that it was a relief to see him witty again. "Oh, trust me, I get plenty of opportunity to do _that_."

He groaned. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, _whatever._ Come on, let's go."

The inside of the bar, Katara found, was just as bad as the outside, though at least the fish smell was a bit softer. Sure, it was more than matched by the stench of cheap tobacco, stale beer, and unwashed humanity, but, she couldn't help but feel, after over a month at sea and a day at that awful inn, anything that didn't smell like _fish_ was an improvement. Which wasn't to say that she liked it; she didn't. Any positive opinions she may have had were quickly done in by the leers that quickly came her way. She ignored them, focusing instead on scanning the place and looking for the man they were there to see. She found him fairly quickly; as one of the only sober people who looked like he'd had a bath in the past few months, he was fairly hard to miss. She turned to her left, only to find her brother missing. Sighing in exasperation, she cast her eyes over to the bar, where she found him making big eyes and exaggerated gestures at the bartender. With a groan, she stomped over, grabbing her brother in mid-gesture and dragging him away.

"_What?!_" he yelped, a hangdog look on his face. "I was going to get something for you, too. Surely a month of teetotaling with Old Man Pakku was wearing a bit thin."

She rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore her unease at the amount of drinking Sokka had snuck away to do with the crew on the trip. "It did, and I'd _kill_ for a nice glass of ice wine right about now, but we have business to conduct."

"And, what, that business can't be conducted over a mug or three of ale?"

"No."

"Says who?"

"Says _me_," she replied, using her best _Mom Voice_.

He whined remarkably like a beat puppy in response. "But _Katara…_"

She didn't waste time arguing, settling for hurling him into the isolated corner booth and sliding in after him. He huffed and he puffed and he pouted, but Katara just went right on ignoring him, pulling back her hood and turning to face the man across the table from her. "Good evening, Lobsang."

The Air Nomad known as Lobsang smiled around his pipe, giving a slight bow of his head. "Good evening, my dear. I must say, by the way, that your Guangzhou has improved."

She allowed herself a flush of pleasure at the compliment, even though she was perfectly aware of the fact that her accent was still terrible and that her grammar could only be called _shitty_. "Why, thank you. I try. After all, if I wasn't able to buy the groceries, I'm pretty sure we'd starve."

He chuckled. "No doubt, no doubt." Lobsang, as was his wont, allowed himself a moment of amusement, before giving himself a shake and adopting a serious expression. "But, in all seriousness, how are you all doing?"

_Heh…that's the million-yuan question, isn't it? _How _were_ they all doing? It was a good question, and one that she was not sure she'd ever be able to answer. Katara regarded Lobsang for a moment, thinking about how to answer it.

At first glance, he was not much to look at, especially now, without his monk's robes. He was naturally bald, and rather short, with a slim, spare frame and grey eyes washed out by late middle-age. He was one of those people who always had an eternally serene aura about him, as if, at any moment, he could either burst into song or doze off, dealer's choice. Though he was a master airbender, he gave no sign of it, even lacking the master's tattoos that the Air Nomads abandoned early on during the War. In short, he looked a lot like everyone's favorite uncle, which was, Katara always felt, a genuinely apt characterization. Incomplete, perhaps, but true. It was only upon close examination that one would be able to see the fire and the steel beneath the soft kindness.

But that day, it was to the kindness Katara decided to respond to, rather than the steel. "We're…we're doing, I suppose." Katara chewed on those words for a bit, before nodding, more to herself than anyone else. "Yeah…we're doing. Our experience in the North was…_unpleasant_, to say the least." She looked around the bar once more, frowning. "Though, to be honest, you'd think it would've made a few more waves."

Lobsang shrugged. "It has, trust me, just not really down here. The North is far away, my dear, and besides, the Fire Nation seems very keen on keeping the whole affair as hush-hush as possible. It appears that everyone involved sees what happened as an utterly disastrous, dishonorable business."

"Yeah…tell me about it…" An image flashed before her, of that horrid man, _Zhao_, forced by his own appalled soldiers to shear off his topknot. The memory rambles on, of him on his knees, slitting his own stomach, while his countrymen nod in approval. That, strangely, hadn't been the part that had struck Katara as the strangest. No, the worst part, the part that stuck with her through the long watches of the night, even more than the fighting or watching a spectral Yue give her brother a final (_and decidedly unchaste_) kiss, was how Zhao _never made a sound._

What was it her Gran-Gran had said, barely two years ago? _You are about to become a stranger in strange lands, Katara. You are not prepared._

She sighed. _No, Gran-Gran, I was not. But I'm learning._ "So," she said, gathering a few stray strands of hair and tucking them back behind her ear, "enough about us. What's our next move?"

"Our next move," Lobsang said, pointing the stem of his pipe at Sokka, "should probably be to feed this young man before he starts gnawing on himself."

She turned to her brother in surprise, to find him holding his stomach in his hands and making strange faces at it. _Oh, thank the gods, he's going to eat something. _"Bored?" she asked, falling into Inuktitut.

He shrugged. "Meh…I guess? Thirsty, mostly. And hungry, I suppose." He pondered for a moment, sticking the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. "And bored, too, I guess. I really gotta learn some Guangzhou." A pause for more contemplation, and then, "Did I mention thirsty?"

Sighing, not sure whether to be happy that he was eating or disturbed that he kept mentioning thirst while eyeing another table's mugs of beer, she waved over one the barmaids, ordered three meat skewers, and then, turning back to her brother, "Happy?"

He shrugged. "I'll let you know in a minute." His face goes bank, and he looks away. "Also, I may not speak the damn language, but I know the word for _North_. So, if you two wouldn't mind…"

Once more, Katara isn't sure whether she should be frustrated or sad. Not knowing what else to do, she patted him on the shoulder, barely resisting the urge to hug him. He gave her a thin, sickly smile, as if to say, _Yeah, I know_, before going back to staring at his stomach.

It was with a genuine act of sheer willpower that she was able to return her attention to Lobsang. It was hard, but doing what was easy while ignoring what was hard had never been something she was good at. For his part, Lobsang had spent the past few minutes being endlessly fascinated by the bowl of his pipe. She smiled; it was at moments like this that made her love the man like the grandfather she never got to know.

"Right," she said, smiling, "where were we?"

Lobsang looked up from his contemplations. "I believe we were discussing our next move."

"We were. I can't help but feel from your tone that the plan Pakku told us about has changed…"

He chuckled. "Ah, Katara, perceptive as usual. You are exactly right, though; the vicinity of Omashu, no matter how friendly, is no longer safe."

"Hmm…I see…might I ask what happened?"

Lobsang took a deep breath, and let it out through gritted teeth. "_Yoshihito happened._"

That drops the atmosphere down to sub-zero fairly quickly. The name even manages to pull Sokka's eyes away from the tray of beer mugs a passing waitress is carrying. For Katara, though, it brought an intense craving for a glass of ice wine and a nice, long cigarette.

_Yoshihito…_

_ The Fire Nation Crown Prince…_

_ Or, as Sokka likes to call him, __**The Crown Dickbag**__…_

_ Dammit…_

"And what," she said, eyeing Lobsang's pipe with unhidden jealousy, all while cursing the Northern Water Tribe's strict prohibition on women smoking (_as well as chastising herself for never taking one of the countless smokes Sokka offered her on the voyage south_), "exactly, has Yoshihito done?"

"The Crown Prince, it seems, has decided that, rather than continue his journey through the major cities and classy bars of the area around Ba Sing Se, he shall conduct an inspection tour of the units stationed in the southwestern part of the Earth Kingdom. This is, of course, a ruse, if a very poor, very transparent one."

"He's really after us."

"Precisely. He seems to have some kind of inkling that the Avatar is in the area."

She frowned and pinched her nose, before falling back into Inuktitut to tell her brother, "You called it."

By this time, the food had arrived, so that when Sokka answered, it was around a mouth full of food. "What, that there's a leak in the North? Told you so."

"And I believed you," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "Yeah, but Pakku didn't, and neither did Arnook, and Korra's been too out of it to weigh in either way, and nevermind that we haven't the slightest clue where the leak might be, and thus, have no idea how much they know. All of which assumes that there's not a leak down here, too. Doesn't matter I suppose. Point is, Yoshihito's in the area."

"Pretty much." She switched back to Guangzhou, and turned to Lobsang. "So, what's the _new_ plan, then?"

Lobsang smiled. "It may come as a welcome surprise, but for once, we were prepared. Thus, the plan itself hasn't changed, merely the location. There will be some new wrinkles, of course, but the perfect place has already been found and investigated. It's out-of-the-way, quiet, and the local baron is friendly to us and outwardly very loyal to the Fire Nation. There isn't even a permanent garrison, and thus, no reason for the Crown Prince to go there without drawing suspicion as to his true motives and further embarrassing his father, which seems to be his primary focus."

"Mmm…sounds promising…where is it?"

"A place called _Gaoling_."

"Heh…never heard of it."

Lobsang just winked as he tapped the side of his nose. "And that, my dear, is the point."

At which point, Katara finally allowed Sokka to have his drink; after all, she wanted one, too.

* * *

Hey, look! It's Lobsang! I swear, this guy...it's like people saying _THX-1138 _in every George Lucas movie, you know? I came up with on the spur of the moment back during _A Different Path_, and I just liked him and was sad that I didn't get enough to time to really get to know him. So, I just keep dragging his ass back in. He's like a fucking Time Lord or some shit.

_But I digress..._

Fun Fact: I first mentioned Gaoling in this story back during Captain Ueno's chapter. When my wife read that, she literally squealed and said, _I smell Toph! _And she was right. There will _totally_ be Toph, and for those of who couldn't get enough of _Lesbian Toph_ back during _Wild, Wild Love_, well, will you be in for a treat.

That is all! Moving on! In the next chapter (because I haven't done that in _far_ too long), Zuko's company endures an inspection. Stay tuned!

PS - The phrase _you are not prepared_ is a nod to the lovely Mark Oshiro of _Mark Does Stuff, _because that guy is awesome, and if there's ever a day you hear nothing out of me, there's a good chance he's the reason why.


	15. ZUKO V

ZUKO

THE COLONEL DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING AT FIRST, JUST OFFERED ZUKO A VERY FINE CIGARETTE, STRAIGHT FROM THE HOMELAND, AND STARTED STROLLING. They walked in silence, the base pulsing with life around them. Zuko saw it, took it in, breathed it in, let it seep into his very soul. Here were some men polishing and repairing weapons, while over there, others were repairing and mending uniforms. A company marched by in close-order drill, and another began to bank around the edges of the camp on another lap of a run. There were some of the cooks' boys, dressing pig-chickens, and here were just some random soldiers shooting the shit, looking over their shoulders, wary of such foul beasts as officers and sergeants. In short, it was _Army Life, _that strange mixture of absolute boredom and sheer terror. It was the life Zuko had aspired to since he was a boy and old enough to know that the Palace would never be a _Home_ for him.

_And I love it as much today as I did four years ago…_

As they moved, he found himself watching the Colonel walk. Zuko envied that walk. From an early age, the well-born are taught that they're _different_. They eat different, live different, are born different, die different, even _walk different_. In fact, they don't do something as common as _walk_. No, they _stride_, _gliding_ across the world as if they hadn't a care in the world, because even they _do_, being human, they're not supposed to _look_ like they do. Needless to say, Zuko had never mastered this skill; his sister was a natural at it, as she was at most things, but the best Zuko had ever managed was to learn to move like a soldier.

The Colonel, though, _he_ mastered the look. Even after a week in the field, when most can't even _snore_ clean, the Colonel always looked every inch the noble. Seeing him, Zuko couldn't help but wonder about how, if he'd managed to master that skill set, would he be different?

_Or was this always my destiny?_ The thought made him smirk a little bit. After all, the destiny _itself_ wasn't so bad, though, if he was honest with himself, there were a few bumps along the way that he wouldn't have minded skipping, a thought which made his scar tingle and ache.

"Thinking of something amusing, Lieutenant?"

Zuko shook himself out of his thoughts and tried on a smile. "Not to anyone but myself, sir."

The Colonel laughed. "I can understand that." His laughter dwindled to a chuckle, before his grin faded and his voice turned serious. "However, back to the subject at hand…how _are_ you, Lieutenant?"

He chewed on that for a moment. In a way, it made him a little sad; the Colonel would never ask any other junior officer such a question. _As much as I want to be just another junior officer, I can never quite get there. _Moments like this were a perfect example. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"Right…mostly, I'm just feeling happy to get out of the frying pan. I've spent four years now avoiding my family – or, at least, most of it," a thought of his sister here, and a sad thump in his heart, "and, to be honest, I wasn't very keen on breaking that streak."

The Colonel nodded. "Perfectly understandable. To be honest myself, I wouldn't mind switching places with you." A languid shrug, of the kind Zuko could only aspire to, and then, "Alas, duty calls."

"As it is wont to do, sir."

"Indeed." There was a long pause, as they finished their cigarettes and tossed them aside. They were standing in the shadow of the base wall. Overhead, the sun shone, and there was barely a cloud in the sky. Despite that, it was quite cool, in a warm sort of way; downright pleasant, really, even in uniform. Even though the regiment wasn't really on garrison duty – it still sent out sweeps and patrols, mostly to break in the fresh meat – it was still, Zuko had to admit, a vast improvement over where they were before. _Hell, on days like today, it's almost a gods-damn vacation, isn't it?_

Finally, though, the Colonel takes a deep breath and breaks the spell. "Lieutenant, I'm sure you're wondering why I've dragged you out here."

"The thought has crossed my mind, sir," he admitted.

The Colonel chuckled. "I'm sure it has. Well…I need to ask you a few questions."

_Oh boy._ Zuko bowed his head. "I am at your service, sir."

"Right…well, first off, I was hoping that you would reconsider your opposition to my putting you in for the _Kinshi Kunsho_."

_Fuck_. Zuko felt distressed, but not really surprised. _The Order of the Golden Kite_. _Dammit_. It wasn't so much that this was a new topic for Zuko; it wasn't. After all, Captain Ueno was often wont to broach the topic. Still, the fact that it had made it this far up the chain-of-command…

_Maybe I should start making my superior officers swear the same oath I make my fellow lieutenants swear…_

Zuko bowed his head. "That, sir, depends on which class you wish to put me in for."

The Colonel sighed. "The third class, Lieutenant, the highest that can be given to one of your rank. After what you did, it would be a disgrace for the Regiment to accept anything less."

From birth, Zuko was trained – often by the back of his father's hand – never to cry. That conditioning went very deep, to the point that Zuko hadn't even shed a tear when his father marked him. And yet, never was Zuko more thankful for that training than in that moment.

"In that case, Colonel, I must respectfully decline."

The Colonel shakes his head, shoulders slumping. "Lieutenant…that ambush was perfect. When that idiot who used to command your battalion got himself killed, it should've all been over. Only through _your_ actions did your battalion and, by extension, the entire _Regiment_, come out alive and intact. You _should_ be getting the _Hi no Jūjika_; this is, literally, the _least_ we can do."

At the mention of the _Cross of Fire_, the Fire Nation's highest military decoration, Zuko almost broke down in tears and gave in. He didn't, because four years before, he had decided never to let the lust for medals lead him astray. "Then, please, sir, settle for fourth class. Anything above that has to be personally approved and awarded by the Fire Lord _himself_."

The Colonel crossed his arms. "And shouldn't _His Majesty_," words the Colonel said in a mocking tone that made Zuko wince inside, "not be made aware of the great deeds his nephew has performed?"

Every fiber of Zuko's being told him to bow to the Colonel's will, but…_he just couldn't_. He wanted to explain, tell the Colonel that, if anything, Zuko was doing this for the Regiment, as much as for himself, but he just couldn't bring himself to put that into words. Instead, he leaned forward, and looked the Colonel right in the eye. "With all due respect, sir, you know why." He leaned back, and watched the Colonel sigh and pinch his nose.

"The Regiment isn't going to be happy about this, Lieutenant."

_I'm doing this for the Regiment, sir. _It was all Zuko could do to shrug, rather than fall to his knees and thank the Colonel for his esteem. "And you think I am? This is the kind of thing I've wanted all my life, respect and honor, not because of _what _I am, but because of _who_ I am and what I _do_. But, if I want to see my twenty-third birthday from somewhere other than inside a prison cell, or live more than a day past my cousin's coronation, well…"

The Colonel nodded, looking very sad. "I understand, Lieutenant. I do. I'm not _happy_ about it, but I understand."

Zuko bowed his head. "Thank you, sir. Though, while we're on the subject, you could always consider giving the award to the other officers in my company…"

The Colonel burst into laughter, catching Zuko completely by surprise. "_Please_. Your fellow officers have made it very clear that they won't accept unless _you_ accept."

Zuko laughed, because it was that or cry. "Heh…they would…so, sir, if I might ask, what was your other question?"

"Ah! Yes! Well, since you're going for a country stroll soon, Lieutenant, I would appreciate a few tips for dealing with your royal cousin."

"I can help there…well…my sister always said that, if you remember that _His Highness the Crown Prince_ is basically a child with the power to execute, you'll do just fine."

"Hmm…care to elaborate?"

"Well…"

Though, to be honest, Zuko couldn't help wonder if he could. He tried his best, but at the end of the day, everything he knew about dealing with Yoshihito, he learned from his sister, which only served to remind him that he really fucking missed his sister.

* * *

In my mind, Zuko would end up occupying a strange place in any unit he happened to wind up in. Basically, he wants to be just another officer, that's what fulfills him, makes him happy, but on the other hand, _a prince is still a prince_, even a spare prince who's been cast out of the Palace. Plus, I'm setting up the story's climax here, which, if I do my job right, will be both satisfying and a bit heart-rending.

In the next chapter, we check back in with the Crown Prince, and get to know the man who calls himself _Kojima_ a little bit more. Stay tuned!

Fun Fact: _The Order of the Golden Kite_ was an actual Japanese military decoration from the Imperial period. I've simplified the way it was awarded, but not by much. I made up the Cross of Fire, though. Seemed appropriate.

Another Fun Fact: _A child with the power to execute_, as much as I wish otherwise, is not my own creation. It is a phrase one of my History professors, one Dr. Hunt Tooley, used in describing the Emperor Nero. I've been _dying_ to come up with a way to use it pretty much since my sophomore year of college.

Not a Fun Fact, but a Random Observation: Is it just me, or does the _Edit Document_ thing seem very random in marking what it thinks is misspelled?


	16. THE CROWN PRINCE AND HIS LACKEY I

THE CROWN PRINCE AND HIS LACKEY

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER CARRIAGE, ANOTHER SLOW RIDE THOUGH A LAND OF ROLLING HILLS AND CROPS SWAYING IN THE BREEZE. It was a rather ostentatious carriage, too, all part of an ostentatious display. So ostentatious was it, in fact, that more than a few uninformed observers, upon seeing the procession, dropped to their knees and pressed their heads to the ground, assuming that the Fire Lord himself had come to what was once the Earth Kingdom. Had they known it was only his son, though, they…probably would have done the same thing. If there's one thing all peasants know, whether they be Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom, it's that it's best to play it safe with such matters.

As for the carriage itself, there were two men inside, sitting across from each other. One, as should only be expected, was the Crown Prince Yoshihito, in the flesh, so to speak. He sat shrouded in darkness turned the color of blood by the light filtering in through the heavy red drapes covering the windows, puffing on an exquisite pipe packed by servants with the kind of tobacco that not even money can buy. He was dressed as he always was, impeccably chosen clothes made of the finest silk, carefully draped over his body by servants that quivered with fear in his presence and laughed behind their hands behind his back. His thoughts were far away, and it did not occur to him that they were not on the topic that should have concerned him the most.

The other man was something altogether different. If there is a word for the exact polar _opposite_ of ostentatious, such a word would not be adequate to describe this man. He was of medium height, but thin and spare. He had one of those faces one forgets the instant one turns away. He was dressed in a standard duty uniform, shorn of rank or insignia, little different from thousands of others. Everything about him was plain and unassuming, even the bland cigarettes he smoked, the same that were issued every day to even the lowest Fire Nation soldier. Gods, not even his voice stood out, as if he had spent a lifetime perfecting his tone, until it was as forgettable as possible…which, of course, was _exactly_ what he had done.

The few people who were ever truly aware of him, who actually remembered him, were often only able to recall one thing: _His eyes_. The eyes, see, were empty and cold. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then the only thing to be seen here was nothing, maybe because there was nothing to see.

As for a name…well…this man had many, which is the same as saying that he had none. To the Crown Prince, though, his name was _Kojima_. The Crown Prince thinks that this is the man's real name. Many years before, the Crown Prince's cousin, a boy named Zuko, seeing right through the man called Kojima, had pointed out that to believe this was absurd, and the Crown Prince was a fool for thinking he knew and controlled the man. That, perhaps, was the day Yoshihito began to turn on his cousin.

Zuko was right, though. _Kojima_ wasn't even _close_.

The Crown Prince is speaking. For how long, Kojima – so-called, but the man _does_ need a name – can't be sure, and isn't listening. The man had been, by his own admission, the Crown Prince's lackey for long enough to know the difference between words to pay attention to, and words to ignore. Right now, it sounded like a rant about His Royal Highness's supposedly frigid wife. Kojima had ignored this rant before, and he would continue ignoring it until he saw fit to do otherwise.

And then, out of nowhere, the Crown Prince's mind changed tracks. This was sudden, and there was no warning. Kojima, though, was prepared, as he is wont to be.

What the Crown Prince said was, "So, have you heard any news of my cousin?"

Kojima tossed his spent cigarette out of the carriage and, using a match struck on his boot, lit another one. He took a few lazy puffs, then, and _only then_, did he speak.

It says something about the Crown Prince that he was smart enough to wait.

"Which one?" was what Kojima said.

Yoshihito blinked. "Which _one?_ What do you mean _which one?_"

Kojima sighed, sounding like he was addressing a particularly dense child. "You have two, my lord, and personally, I'd forget about the one you're so concerned with and focus on the other."

Yoshihito adopted an incredulous expression. "_What? _You're not talking about _Azula_, are you? You're really not hammering on that _again?_"

Kojima nodded, his expression cool and blank, giving nothing away. It was as if his features were set in stone, an effect that had never ceased to unnerve Yoshihito. "Well, my lord, unless you have a _third_ cousin I don't know about, then yes, I'm talking, once more, about the Princess Azula."

Yoshihito rolled his eyes. "Well, fine, but _why?_ I mean, it's _Azula_ you're talking about. What's to worry about?"

"Besides the fact that she hates her father, and, by extension, the Royal Family itself?"

Yoshihito scoffed. "_Please_. Everyone hates my uncle. He's a useless drunk and a prick; this is hardly news. His own _wife_ hates him, and Father wouldn't even let him go for a walk in the garden without an escort these days."

"True," Kojima allowed, rolling his head around as if tasting the statement, "but the Princess's anger is a bit more…well…_personal_, and thus, much more dangerous than generalized loathing."

"What, because of what happened to Zuko? She can't _possibly_ still be upset about _that._ Everyone's moved on."

"That," Kojima said, wielding his cigarette like an extended finger, "is a statement I must contest, and an attitude you, my lord, would be wise to discard."

The expression that came over the Crown Prince's face could not be described as anything other than _confused_. "Come on. My fool of a cousin finally spoke out of turn one too many times, and was punished for it. The punishment was unnecessarily harsh, sure, but the world has moved on. No one important even _remembers_, much less sympathizes with him."

Kojima, unlike everyone else in the Crown Prince's life (excepting, of course, the Fire Lord himself), stood his ground, slowly shaking his head. "I'm afraid that's simply not the case. There is still a great deal of sympathy for young Zuko, and I'm afraid that you should never forget that one of those _sympathetic souls_ is a Royal Princess who, in addition to being both incredibly intelligent and a firebending prodigy, still has the doll her older brother made for her on her tenth birthday."

Yoshihito laughed. "Wait, Azula still plays with _dolls?_"

"Of course not, but she still has that one, and keeps it close. No matter what she may say or do in public, that fact alone means that she bears watching."

Yoshihito was still not having any of this. After all, he had, within the past week, finally hit upon a foolproof plan to force his way back into his father's good graces. Well, maybe not a _plan_, more like _a vague idea_, but whatever, that's what Kojima was for. "So, you're saying that I should be more concerned about a twenty-year-old _girl_ than a grown man with going on four years of real, frontline military experience?"

Kojima nodded, slow and sure. "Absolutely, my lord."

Yoshihito rolled his eyes, no doubt completely unaware of how much he resembled a spoiled child. "Well, I'm sorry, Kojima, but that's just ridiculous. Azula is nothing to worry about."

Kojima shrugged. "If you think so, my lord."

Yoshihito snorted. _"I know so."_

Kojima sighed. "Very well. So…where is she?"

"Huh? Where is who?"

"The Princess Azula, of course."

Yoshihito waved the question aside with an imperious gesture. "Out of the way. Traveling the Fire Nation with some school friend of hers because the latest betrothal she broke was threatening to become a scandal. Which is unfortunate, but what did she expect, challenging that boy to an Agni Kai because he looked at her in a way she didn't like?"

"And then beat him senseless in said Agni Kai, if I remember correctly," Kojima pointed out.

"Whatever. Point is, she's somewhere in the Fire Nation, no doubt slumming it up."

"Or, at least, so you think."

Yoshihito narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by _that_, Kojima? What are you driving at?"

"Well, it should be obvious: The Princess Azula is not in the Fire Nation, and hasn't been for some time."

For a split second, the Crown Prince almost listened. He almost took the advice of his lackey to heart. He almost, _almost_, decided to forget about his daft little plan, _almost_ decided to forgive a slight given by a newly half-blind young man in a hospital room years before, _almost_ decided to let go of his anger and his jealousy and his sense of having been _wronged_.

But, in the end, Yoshihito was Yoshihito, and he could not get past the fact that one cousin was a _man_, and the other a mere _girl_. So he waved his hand once again, rolled his eyes once more, and said, "What of it? Let my fool of an uncle worry about that. Now, what about Zuko? What news of him, the news I _ordered_ you to start gathering? Any information about the _real_ threat to me?"

And what did the man the Crown Prince knew as _Kojima_ think of this? What was going on behind that impassive face? What was the point, even, of this discussion? No one but Kojima could possibly know, and Kojima didn't care to elaborate. He merely took a deep breath and began, very slowly, very clearly, to tell his supposed boss what the man thought he needed to know.

* * *

So, this is going to come off as sounding a bit weird, but Kojima (of whose name even _I'm_ not entirely sure) is actually one of my top five favorite fictional creations. It's a weird quirk of mine. For example, my favorite character in all of Shakespeare is Iago from _Othello_. I'm just odd that way. There's something about people who are dangerous and potentially evil without having any special powers or abilities that I find fascinating.

Also, random note...why the fuck does this site seem to accept _Iago _as a word, but not fucking _Othello? Wiggy._

In case anyone's curious as to why Zuko was banished after he was scarred, well...trust me, I'll explain that. _Maybe_. I haven't decided yet. I've always been a fan of Noodle Incidents.

In the next chapter, Katara sits down and talks to Korra, and they have a heart-to-heart. Stay tuned!

Fun Fact: I think my favorite name in all of this is _Yoshihito_. It's one step away from having an excuse to call some _Yoshi_.


	17. KATARA V

KATARA

"SO, ARE WE GOING TO STAY IN GAOLING, OR GO SOMEWHERE ELSE?"

Katara was taken a bit aback by the question, mostly because it was one she hadn't considered, or even really thought to ask Lobsang. She was down in the inn's common room, sitting across from Korra, munching on a late breakfast. Upstairs, Sokka snored away the morning in their room, leaving Katara to take Korra downstairs for some grub, a lot of water, and a long talk about the next leg of their odyssey. They spoke in their tribal dialect, since the inn specialized in catering to Water Tribe sailors and merchants and, thus, their native tongue wouldn't stand out. Korra had sat, very quietly, very still, picking at her food while Katara talked and nursed the last dregs of the hangover she had allowed (_quite willingly_, she freely admitted to herself) her brother to talk her into the night before.

"What do you mean?" she asked, knocking back a gulp of water and refilling her glass from the absurdly appealing-looking carafe sitting on the table.

"I mean," Korra said, chewing absently on her lip, "are we going to stay in Gaoling while I learn earthbending, or go somewhere else to do it?"

Katara saw right through the question. _Are we going to go wandering again? _The first leg of their journey had been a tortuous ordeal, running and sneaking from one hiding place to another, dodging Fire Nation garrisons and Earth Kingdom rebels with equal fervor. They had even managed to get captured once, and the gods only knew what that prick Yoshihito would have done to them if the mysterious Blue Spirit (_whom Katara was still convinced was, in fact, a girl_) hadn't pulled their bacon out of the fire. The idea that they might have to embark upon such a journey again was one Katara realized she had been avoiding, and the mere thought of it filled her with exhausted sadness.

_It is what it is, _she thought. _We have to do what we have to do. __**I **__have to do what I have to do._ "Honestly," she admitted with a heavy sigh, "I really don't know. From what I understand, Gaoling is _just_ out-of-the-way enough, and the Bei Fongs _just_ powerful enough, that there's a good chance we'll be able to stay there for a while."

It Korra was reassured by this, she didn't show it. Her hair was in the long, sloppy ponytail it was normally in, the end flung over one shoulder, and she slumped back in her chair, reaching up and taking the end of her hair in her hands. She began running her fingers through it, fiddling and fussing. A couple strands hung over her eyes, but she didn't push them away. Katara read the signs, the ones that were present and the ones that were conspicuous in their absence. _Where are you, Korra? _she thought with a mother's concern. _What happened? How did I fail you so badly?_

The idea that the failure went both ways was not something Katara cared to contemplate.

With yet another heavy sigh, Katara reached forward and shoved her plate (along with her thoughts) aside. She leaned onto the table, reached out, tore Korra's hands away from her hair and took them in her own. Korra tried to avoid her gaze, but she moved her head left and right, until the girl had no choice but to look her in the eyes. Taking a moment to gather her strength, Katara spoke, trying desperately not to sound like her mother.

"Korra, I want you to listen to me, okay? Things are going to get better. The last two years? The North? What happened? _Forget about it_. Take the lessons that you learned, and move on. Sitting around, brooding and tossing and turning, that's going to get us exactly _nowhere_. We have a mission to accomplish, a job to do, and the entire _world_ is relying on us to do it. Do you understand me? You are the _Avatar_. I know that's a terrible thing to be, a terrible burden to bear, but someone has to do it, and that someone is _you_. Are you with me?"

Something wavered across Korra's face, rippled through her skin, something Katara barely caught, and even when she saw it, didn't know what to do with. Korra frowned, and looked down, at the middle of the table, where their hands were clasped together.

"Are you with me…?" she whispered.

Katara smiled her biggest, best smile, and did her best to banish any trace of the doubts she felt. "Of _course_ I'm with you, Korra."

She knew what the next question would be, had been dreading it all morning. And yet, no matter how much she knew it was coming, she was still not prepared for it.

"And Sokka? Is Sokka with me?"

A litany of advice flew through Katara's mind. _Don't blink, don't hesitate, don't hem and haw, don't for an __**instant**__ let Korra begin to think that she might one day have to do this all alone._

"Of _course_ he is. He's just…" Here, Katara stumbled a bit, searching for the right words, before deciding that there weren't any. "He's just…he's very sad, okay? I know that can be scary, at your age, to realize how _sad_ us big kids can get, but, in the end, he'll be okay. You just have to give him some time."

When Korra looked up, her eyes were full of unshed tears, and Katara's heart broke.

"But…he hates me, doesn't he?"

Katara shook her head, did not blink, did not hesitate, and prayed to all the gods there were or might be that she wasn't lying.

"No, he doesn't hate you. Like I said, he's just sad, sad and a little angry." _Okay, that last bit was a total lie, but whatever, __**I have to do what I have to do.**_ Not for the first time, Katara wondered how her mother would feel, if she ever found out how good her daughter had become at lying.

It was a thought that made Katara feel, more than ever, just how far from home she really was. She ignored this feeling, though; it did nothing, and got her nowhere. _Later_, she promised herself, and wondered if it was possible to lie to yourself.

Once more, Korra did not look convinced. She looked down, at their clasped hands, and Katara couldn't help but feel a little relieved that Korra was beginning to put some strength, some feeling, some _life_, into her half of the grip.

"You know," she said, voice sounding very far away, and not at _all_ fifteen, "when I first found out, I was so excited…"

"Found out what?" Katara asked, desperately trying to read ahead, to see if this was going to be a digression she would have to derail and bury.

"That I was the Avatar. I was so…it was so _amazing_. All my life, I'd thought I was just the poor daughter of a poor buffalo-yak herder, an unimportant person in an unimportant place, poor even by our people's standards. And then…one day…I got frustrated with some sewing and accidentally set the blanket I was making on _fire_, and I was scared, but thrilled, and then Father took my into the main village and we saw the chief shaman and…and…_it was the best day of my life_, you know that?"

Katara smiled, and hoped it reached her eyes. "I know. I was there, remember?"

And that's when Korra finally smiled back. "I remember. You were so…so _beautiful_. I wanted to be _just like you_, and when I found out that I was going to go out into the world, I was scared, sure, but the fact that I'd get to be with you? I got so excited I burst into tears." She laughed, a choked, pained thing, but Katara didn't care, it was a _laugh_.

_Gods, _she thought, _if I'd known that I'd spend as much time being a therapist as I would being a warrior, I never would've left home._

"Will it be that way again?" Korra asked, looking up, eyes pleading. "Like it was in the beginning?"

Katara heard the unspoken question. _Will I ever enjoy being the Avatar again? Will I ever __**want**__ to be the Avatar again?_ She heard it, and decided to answer it by not answering it. She squeezed Korra's hands even harder, leaned forward, and gave the girl a soft kiss on the forehead.

"I don't know," Katara admitted, but beaming as she did, "but I know this: _We can try_. We can go to Gaoling, and go straight there, _no side adventures_," she said this with a wink, and Korra giggled, if only for a second, "and we're going to have some fun and see this Earth Rumble thing, and you're going to learn earthbending, and be the best there ever was at it, and, for a little while, at least, everything's going to be _just fine_. Hell, even Sokka will be happy, what with all the shopping and gambling he'll be able to do. Deal?"

And Korra finally brightened up and nodded and said, "Deal."

A thought bubbled up in Katara's mind then, one she always hated to see. She couldn't help but think of how she hadn't cried since she had left home, two years before, of how she barely even let herself feel sad, of how it had been a long time since she had even felt _human._

_Just for one week, eighteen months ago…_

But she quashed those thoughts as she always did, by saying seven words to herself:

_**I do what I have to do.**_

And that was all there was to it.

* * *

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where we will leave it today. However, I would like to take a moment to explain why I substituted Korra for Aang in this fic.

Basically, what it boils down to is that the premise of this experiment is to play around with the core characterizations of the cast of ATLA. A big part of this is that I really enjoy writing these fics, but I feel an obligation, both to myself and to you, to not keep doing the same thing over-and-over again. _Not All Who Wander_ was the first step in that quest, and this is the next. I always appreciate a fic that pushes past the limits of Canon, while still staying true to the universe, and I wanted to do something like that.

The problem with Aang, though, is that there weren't many directions to go. When I first started writing this, it had Aang, but only a bit more shitty. I quickly tired of that, and didn't like how it was coming off (it started to get real _Ron the Death Eater-y_, and I like Aang too much for that). I played around with making him a bit more mature, but then he wasn't acting his age, nor was he particularly interesting. Instead, I give you Korra, because I finally got into LOK, and decided that I really liked her (at least, when Bryke are being consistent with her, a common problem, I feel, in LOK, largely stemming from the fact that they obviously _really _wanted to make a show for grown-ups, but weren't allowed to). Then I found a place for Aang that I found much more satisfying, as well as making it much easier to really delve into some of the problems I have with the existence of a being like the Avatar.

But more on that later...

For now, enjoy Katara doing her thing and being awesome, Korra doing her thing and wrestling with her doubts about the role of the Avatar and how to go about that, and, in the next chapter (which will probably be up tomorrow), enjoy an inspection. Stay tuned!


	18. ZUKO VI

ZUKO

FROM THE MOMENT MASTER SERGEANT KITAJIMA BARKED THE ORDER TO SNAP THE COMPANY TO ATTENTION, TO THE MOMENT HE BARKED THE ORDER TO PUT THE COMPANY AT EASE, ABOUT AN HOUR PASSED. During that time, they stood, motionless and silent. The world turned, trees whispered, wind blew, but upwards of three hundred soldiers noticed it not at all. They might as well have been statues. Officers stood before their platoons, _katanas _drawn and tapped to their shoulders. Soldiers held _yaris_ ramrod straight, parallel to their bodies, polished blades sparkling in the sun. Members of the support and heavy weapons platoon stood beside their tools and equipment, all while the company's firebenders ran through training mantras in their heads. The only movement, and even then, one would have be to very observant to catch it, were eyes sliding back and forth, watching Captain Ueno slowly walk along the ranks, sparing neither his favorite officer nor his most hated enlisted man.

It was a nerve-wracking experience, Zuko admitted, eye straight ahead, for once thankful that he had only one to keep control of. For all of that, though, these were the kinds of inspections he loved. It's been said that no battle-ready unit ever passed inspection, and, to an extent, he thought (_for the soldier's mind goes strange places, and does strange things, at such times_), that was true. There is a particular kind of inspection that cares only how impressive and, for lack of a better word, _pretty_ a unit looks. This kind of inspection, though, was different. Today, the Captain could not give less of a shit about whether one's armor had scratches on it, or if the scabbard of one's _katana_ looked like an ostrich-horse had chewed on it, or if one's helmet had a weird dent in it. _Do you have your helmet, and does the strap work? Are all of the pieces of your armor properly fitted and strapped on? Can you katana pass a sharpness test? If you're a firebender, can you, at the drop of a hat, perform one of the standard combat forms? _These are the questions that needed to be answered. Answer them correctly, and you have passed inspection, take the night off. If not, sorry, you'll be up late fixing the problem, and gods help you if you fail.

It is worth noting that, in the four years Zuko had been in the army, his platoon had never, not _once_, failed to pass this kind of inspection. He took great pride in that, even as his heart thumped away in his throat and the sweat on the palm of his hand made the skin tingle where it met his armored glove.

Finally, as all things must do, the inspection ended. As usual, not everyone came out squeaky clean. There were missing odds and ends that had not been replaced yet, things of that nature that are unavoidable. One unlucky private in the support section had a rusty _yari toshi_ blade, but in his defense, he had been in the Army only a few months and in the unit only a couple of weeks, so the Captain settled for dressing him down and telling him to fix it by morning. Everything done, Master Sergeant Kitajima barked the order all had been waiting for, the order to be _at ease_, and the Captain mounted a box, cleared his throat, and, as veterans heaved mental sighs of relief and rookies heaved audible ones, began to speak.

"Gentlemen," he said, "good evening." He bowed, and, as one, the company bowed back. "Most of you know me, but some of you are new. You may not have gone into the field with us, or maybe you have, just not like this. So, let me make one thing perfectly clear: _This is not a combat operation._" He paused, casting his gaze over the assembly, letting that information sink in. Zuko, just like everyone else, waited, answering with his eyes and his respect.

The Captain nodded, and continued.

"We will march with full battle-rattle, prepared for anything, but we march through pacified areas to a town that has never given us difficulty. We go only to the show the flag and make the local bigwigs feel safe and important. At all times, we will conduct ourselves according to the full letter and spirit of the _Royal Code of Military Justice_. You will behave as if you were on garrison duty in the Homeland. _Any_ trouble or bad conduct will be punished, severely and immediately." He stopped once more, to let the company think about what that meant. Despite the fact that he had never violated it, Zuko could not help but think on the full implications of such a statement, of what the _Royal Code of Military Justice_ actually meant. It was infamously harsh, incredibly strict, even if, to Zuko's shame, out in the wilds of the unpacified areas, it was often honored more in the breach than the observance. Thieves lost a finger after passing the gauntlet, cowards were executed on the spot, rapists were castrated before being hanged, officers who failed in their duties were required to commit _seppuku_, and flogging was meted out at all ranks and for all infractions.

Of course, some units did not follow these rules, even in the Homeland. Some units had lax discipline, or ruthless, bloodthirsty officers, or were deployed on punishment raids, or were simply of those units whose names were whispered with fear and loathing even amongst their countrymen.

Not in the Ninety-Fourth, though. In the Ninety-Fourth, so unfortunately named, Colonel Kotaro demanded his men act honorably, in the best traditions of the Fire Nation of old, and Captain Ueno was a long-time disciple.

_My sister chose well, when she manipulated my way into this unit_. It was hard for Zuko not to smile at that.

Meanwhile, the Captain carried on: "Gentlemen, I have served, with honor, for twenty years now. This year shall be no different from the last, on until the day I die. Do I make myself clear?"

As one, the company took a deep breath and bellowed, _"Sir, yes, sir!"_

The Captain smiled, as much as he ever did. "Now that I've shown you the stick, I can show you the carrot. We will be in Gaoling for at least two weeks. If you behave and honor me, every man will have a chance to see the games and take in the town and the sights, _such as they are_." This set off a ripple of laughter and chuckles; the unit's gossip vine had already well-established Gaoling as a bit of a backwater. "His Majesty the Colonel," yet another ripple of laughter, quieter this time, Zuko was proud to notice, "has authorized an advance on next month's pay for every man who wants it. You may need it; any man who takes advantage of his position to act like a freeloading thug will be _flogged_. On the other hand," and here, he smiled once more, "you'd be fools to turn down an offered discount." More laughter, quiet and swift, but with a hint of hunger and excitement. The Captain let it have its way, and then, the second he cast away his smile, it died.

"Very well. Does every man understand what is expected of him?"

_"Sir, yes, sir!"_

"Will any of you disgrace me or the Regiment?"

_"Sir, no, sir!"_

"Excellent. Assemble here and be ready to depart at sunrise. Any man who is late will be spend the next few weeks working in the regimental kitchens. Understood?"

_"Sir, yes, sir!"_

"Very well." He bowed, the company bowed back, and, after a nod from the Captain, Master Sergeant Kitajima bellowed the greatest word any soldier could ever hear:

_**"DISMISSED!"**_

With that, the company raised their arms and chanted _banzai_ three times, gave a final cheer, and then went about their business. Dinner followed, after which there was more work to be done, at least for the sergeants and the officers. By the time all was truly satisfactory, the sun was a distant memory and midnight was just around the corner.

Zuko, for all that he loved the Army, was utterly exhausted by the end of it. He stumbled back to the barracks, feeling worn to a nub and desperate for sleep. He staggered to his rack, kicking off his boots as he hurled himself into what could only loosely be called _a mattress_. He heaved a great, weary sigh, draping one arm over his eyes while with the other he unbuckled his sword belt and let it fall to the floor. Sleep began to come, the sleep of the just, the sleep of those who have accomplished something.

It was odd, he thought, as darkness crept into his gaze. _I never slept this good at the Palace_. There, he tossed and turned, eyes darting about like a hunted animal. He would push his bed against a wall, and never even close his eyes with his back to the door. He was alive to every sound, every whimper. Only his sister could rouse him from his room once the doors were closed, and even then, she was typically the one to slip into his room and curl up at the foot of his bed. There, they would talk, never about their lives or their families, only about things that made them smile, and they would dream of a fantastical day when all of it would go away.

Once, eighteen months before, the most beautiful woman Zuko had ever met had sat up in the darkness, covered only by his rough military-issue blanket, and asked him, in a soft, quiet voice, if it ever bothered him, ever kept him up at night, the things he had to do as a soldier. He had thought about that long and hard, watching the ember of his cigarette blaze like a star in the night. He couldn't help but feel that it was revealing that he never for a second thought about lying.

"Sometimes," he said, his words floating up to him from the gloom. "The first time I killed a man, I couldn't sleep for a week. For at least a month afterwards, I saw him in the face of every person I met. And when I see the way other units behave, or come on the aftermath of one of the…_one of the __**special**__ units_…it's hard not to be sick. Some deal with it just fine, some only pretend to do so, but me? Well…_I'm me._ Sure, _war is war_, but…_I don't know…_" He had stubbed out his cigarette then, reached out into the darkness and pulled her to him. Her fingers sought out his, and they entwined together, resting on his chest. Where the rest of what he said came from, he didn't know. All he knew was that he had to tell her, and that she had to know.

"But…that's not the worst thing. Those things, they're horrible, but they're not what keep me up at night."

"What is?" she asked, nuzzling into his neck.

"The fact that I left my sister behind. I won't ever be able to truly rest until I know she's out of that horrid place."

The last thing he thought, there in that barracks, before sleep claimed him, was fear. He remembered the fear, the fear that he said something wrong, the way he always felt, when he showed a little bit of his true heart, his true self, to someone. He knew that he had never opened himself this much before, not to anyone but his sister, and maybe Toru, and he wanted very much for this young woman with big blue eyes, this young woman with the outrageously foreign name of _Katara_, to understand, to not be disgusted, to _get him_.

And then he remembered the relief he felt when she shuddered and burrowed deeper into him and said, "I know what you mean."

For the first time in a long time, Lieutenant Tokugawa went to sleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

So, quick note: Sorry for the late updates today. It was a bit of a weird day. The wife is sick, so that's taken up a lot of my time and attention (because, to my eternal surprise, this old dog really likes being a husband), plus there were errands, and the chapters I was typing up (I'm trying to always stay a good ten chapters ahead of you guys) needed a lot of work. This one itself needed a whole _fuckton_ of work, mostly to make it not boring and make sure it served a purpose in the narrative. It has several: One, to firmly establish Zuko's life, two, to make clear that this is not a fic about how _great_ the Fire Nation is, but, rather, to show that the Ninety-Fourth is one of the good units (even the _Wehrmacht _had units that played by the rules and tried to fight honorably), and three, because I really liked the humanity there at the end. One of you guys observed in the reviews how this Zuko is not bitter, and is much more confident and assured, but his upbringing still haunts him, always at the back of his mind.

Also, there's always room for Zutara fluff as far as I'm concerned, because, hey, we all have our problems.

Quick note: One of you guys (the review showed up in my e-mails, but I can't find it on the site, which always confuses me; it's like there's a weird lag sometimes) said you were confused as to who, exactly, Zuko and the rest of the army were fighting. Basically, they're fighting rebels and guerillas. The Earth Kingdom has fallen, and is under a full-scale occupation, but not all of it is pacified. Thus, a low-intensity, never-ending, grinding, draining war, and like in any war, the occupiers don't always behave, and the line between _freedom fighter _and _bandit_ is often perilously thin.

Seriously, look at how the French Resistance often behaved. Some of those bands were one step from being little more than particularly well-armed gangs.

In the next chapter, we get a little look into the mind of a princess. Stay tuned!

PS - Don't worry, somebodysusername, I have no doubt that the typos will never be truly banished! I'm just trying to proof these things for a change.


	19. AZULA I

AZULA

IT WAS LATE, BUT SHE COULDN'T SLEEP. Outside, through the window she never closed, she could hear the city, rumbling like a beast in a deep, dark pit. Bells clanged and people shouted and muttered and whispered in a dozen dialects and languages. Somewhere, ships groaned at anchor, and she swore she could hear that, too.

But that wasn't what kept her awake.

Outside, in the courtyard, final preparations were being made. Servants bustled and soldiers swore and spat and complained. Komodo-rhinos bellowed and groaned and wheels squeaked and turned. Metal clanged and wood creaked and there was a great racket when someone dropped something and someone else chewed the guilty part in a voice that boomed like thunder.

But that wasn't what kept her awake, either.

Inside, in her room, her friends stirred in the dark. One huddled under bright pink blankets, dead to the world, while the other tossed and turned and muttered in her sleep.

But even that, at the end of the day, wasn't what kept her awake.

No, what kept the Princess Tokugawa Azula awake, through the long watches of the night, was that, tonight, of all nights, when the climax of years of planning and scheming and plotting, when the first step on the road to her goal was finally at hand, she could not stop thinking about the last time she spoke to her mother.

It was early morning. She remembered that, just as she remembered the sight of the sun breaking over the horizon, driving away the clouds that had carried the night's rain, setting the city on fire, the gold that trimmed the walls and roofs of the Palace precincts flashing red and gold. _Like blood_, she couldn't help but think, then or now.

She was very tired, too. She remembered that as well. The night before, the Princess, a freshly-minted sixteen-year-old, had dressed in the black-blue uniform of the legendary _ninja_ and stolen away into a city heavy with fear and oncoming rain. Thunder rumbled through the skies as she slipped through the curfew's cracks, silent as the grave, every cell of her body bursting with equal parts confidence and rage. Not once was she stopped or even glimpsed, and the agents of the _metsuke_, the Fire Lord's dreaded secret police, who had been assigned to keep watch on who dared to visit or even _speak_ to the disfavored and disfigured Prince Zuko, never even knew she was there. Indeed, they had never noticed, not before, not then, a fact which never ceased to amuse the siblings.

That last night, they did the same as they always did, stayed up late and laughed and talked and smiled, the same as they had twice a week since Zuko had woken up. She'd been there before that, of course, keeping watch through eyes clouded by tears she refused to shed, holding her brother's hand through the long nights and daring the guards and the night nurses to even _try _to remove her. None did, and so she stayed, and endured a darkness of the soul that she would refuse to talk about for years, even to the brother she had never hidden anything from.

That final night was no different. They didn't talk about the burning, or address the bandages wrapped around Zuko's face, or acknowledge that the days of raving and pain had ever happened. Rather, they drank fine spice wine that Azula had stolen from Yoshihito's personal stock and smoked their father's cigars. Of conversation, there was plenty. To begin with, they talked about Azula's friend Ty Lee, a strange, bubbly girl, of her six older sisters and the latest acrobatics she had taught Azula. That, by the way, was the first moment when Azula almost cried. Her parents, her entire _family_, really, absolutely _loathed _Ty Lee. She was descended from Earth Kingdom stock, and was common to boot; only some strange scholarship left over from the days of Fire Lord Sozin's reforms had let the girl find a way into the Royal Girls' Academy.

But Zuko didn't care. Sure, he made no secret of the fact that he found the girl's personality slightly overwhelming, but he was still nice to her. He encouraged Azula to befriend her, to hang out with her, to even learn _circus tricks_ from her. Because that was Zuko, that was her big brother. He was always there for her, always cared about her, always stood up for her.

_And now he wasn't going to be there anymore…_

But she didn't cry. She couldn't. Crying was dangerous. Only the weak cried, and the weak were the first to go when one's family ruled the world. One day, she would cry. She knew this. She would break down and sob like a baby for days.

But not today, and probably not tomorrow, either. No, she would never cry, not until the day she got her brother back. _That_ would be something worth crying for.

They talked about Mai, too, another topic that caused Azula pain. She loved the girl, and hated to see her hurt, and ever since that horrid day, the Lady Arinori Mai had been absolutely inconsolable. The Fire Lord breaking the marriage contract had made things even _worse_. That had been one of the few moments that Zuko had looked sad. Azula didn't really understand it, at least, not then. She knew that her brother did not feel about Mai as Mai did about him, but she still hadn't expected him to look so _sad_.

Years later, she finally got it, but then? Well, she _was_ only sixteen. Almost unnaturally intelligent, driven, and mature, but still, _sixteen is sixteen_.

The bulk of the evening, though, was spent discussing each other. Those were the moments when Zuko got positively _excited_. His face brightened when she told him all about how close she was to wielding the blue flames, something not even their uncle or their cousin could do, and he almost danced a jig when she told him about how she had browbeaten a teacher into finally giving her the marks she deserved, rather than marking her in a way that she would never have the top ranking she had earned, and that her cousins, the Fire Lord's daughters, had cheated their way into.

And when he talked about the military career he was finally going to get, and the unit he had been assigned to? Well, Azula had no words for how he looked, or how he made her feel by proxy, but, if she had to choose, she would pick _incandescent. _She was so delighted to see him fucking _smile_ for once, that she resolved never to tell him about the penal colony he was originally assigned to guard, and to never let him fully know the risks she had taken to get him sent to the Ninety-Fourth. Because, see, he would get upset, and he'd already had enough pain in this life, and she would be _damned_ if she was going to cause him more.

Eventually, though, it was time to go. The wine had been drunk and the cigars smoked and both of them needed at least a _little_ sleep. They hugged and the hug turned into an embrace and then her brother was crying and she was biting her lip, desperate not to join him. She had made a promise, a solemn _oath_, to herself. She would not, _could not_, cry.

_Not until she had him __**back.**_

And definitely not until she had made their family _pay_.

But it was hard when he pulled back and wiped his one good eye and reached up and wiped something from both of hers. Because he got her, he had bothered to _understand_, and when he laughed and said she had some dust in her eye, she almost broke down and wailed like a little girl who just learned that turtle-ducks bite.

She didn't, though. She nodded and said, in her haughtiest voice, _Well, __**naturally**_, hugged her brother one more time, and made her escape.

On the way back to the Palace that would never be her _Home_, she didn't dwell on the fact that her brother was being sent away. No, she focused on how happy she was that he would finally get his wish for a life of his own, along with the beginnings of her plan to someday get him back. Not at the Palace, of course; _gods forbid_. No, she just wanted him back in her life, and she wanted a life of her own to have him be a part of, and she, the Princess Azula, who would soon wield the blue flames, would settle for nothing less.

These thoughts made her happy, buoyant, as bubbly as Ty Lee. She barely even noticed the trip back, time flowing by like a river in flood, cool and soft. So happy was she, during this brief period of peace of mind, that she didn't even notice that she wasn't alone in her room until the delicate cough stopped her halfway through taking off her left boot. Without even looking, though, she knew who it was. Immediately, she felt the walls come up, the doors slam shut, the bolts slide into place. Her happiness, her joy, her _very emotions_, tucked themselves quickly out of sight, and she almost wept to see them go. Even her skin no longer felt like her own. _This_ girl would never sit with Ty Lee and compare notes on the male servants' butts. _This _girl, this _creature_, would never do something so crass as to _giggle_. This _entity_, this _stranger_, would never _dare_ to wield the blue flame, not when their cousin, _the heir to the throne_, could not.

Azula hated the mask, and, in the past four months, she had come to hate the family that made her wear it, for the day her father burned her brother had been the day she had learned far too many truths.

And now, she couldn't help but feel, she was about to learn one more. Mask or no mask, though, Azula had never been one to shy away from something that might hurt. Thus, with little more pause than the inhaling and exhaling of a shallow breath, she turned on her heels and came face-to-face with her mother.

The Lady Ursa stood alone, shrouded in darkness. She was dressed for bed, her long jet black hair cascading down in straight, shimmering tresses. She looked very tired, her face haggard and her dark eyes sunken in sockets worn with worry. For a moment, Azula caught herself starting to care, starting to feel guilty and apologetic. She shoved the feelings aside; that was the mask, and though she had to wear the mask, she was done actually _feeling_ its stunted excuse for emotions.

_They only ever wore her out…_

"Good morning, daughter."

The voice pricked the mask; again, Azula ignored it, ignored the way her mother's voice sounded drained and very, very old. Instead, she shrugged, finished taking off her boots, and let down her hair, before saying, "Oh, it's morning, is it?"

Her mother sighed, and shook her head. "Oh, Zula, where have you been?"

Azula shrugged, feeling nothing. "Out."

"You've been seeing your brother."

It wasn't a question, so Azula didn't bother to answer, merely stood and stared. Her mother saw the gaze, the cold defiance that gleamed in eyes that shimmered bright gold in the flickering torchlight, and looked away.

"Gods-dammit, Azula, how could you?"

Azula straightened her back and bowed, low and proper, as she had always been taught to do. No doubt her etiquette tutor would be proud.

"How could I not?"

Her mother sniffed, wiped at her eyes. It wasn't a question, but the Lady Ursa was either too tired to notice or felt compelled to answer.

"Because your father forbade it, Zula. Because your brother finally opened his mouth one too many times, and now he's being punished for it."

Azula couldn't even _begin_ to comprehend how these words made her feel, so she decided to feel nothing at all.

"And that's all you have to say?"

It was a long time before her mother answered. In that time, Azula kept her eyes locked on the Lady Ursa, and the Lady Ursa kept her eyes locked on the floor. Nothing moved, and the only sounds were those of thunder in the rolling clouds on the horizon and the spluttering of flaming torches. Finally, the Lady Ursa gave herself a shake. She drew herself up tall and proud, set her chin, looked deep into her daughter's eyes, and said, "Such is your Lord and Father's command."

It was hard to keep the mask in place. It didn't help that her mother had fallen into court language, turning the sentence into something along the lines of, _And thus thy Lord and thy Father doth command_, only more ornate and less comprehensible. Azula didn't know then whether to laugh or cry, so she decided, for the last time in her life, to let the mask do the talking.

"Good night, Mother."

Then she had turned around, and set about getting ready for bed, and waiting for the door to close behind her mother to breathe again. Four years later, far, far away, the Princess Azula who no longer considered herself a princess, but, rather, aspired to something _more_, rolled over, turning her back on the window, and tried to think of a single true, genuine word she had ever said to her mother since.

She could not think of a single one.

* * *

So, fun fact, Azula - even crazy-as-a-bucket-of-shit-rats Canon Azula and crazier-than-that My Usual Azula - is one of my favorite characters. There's..._there's so much there, you guys_. Like, no joke. And so, when I started this project, one of the things that got set into place right at the beginning was that I was going to write Azula a bit differently. She's still very much her father's daughter, as much as she doesn't want to admit it. She's stubborn, determined, proud, defiant, brave. But, I took away that one thing that she got from her father that turned all that bad: _I gave her a little bit of humanity_. What would an Azula who actually cared about her brother, the brother with whom she was alone in a classic abusive household, be like? This is what came out. I like the result. This is actually my favorite chapter thus far.

A quick note on Ursa: _I am not butchering her character_. She is exhibiting classic signs of battered woman's syndrome. If you know anything about abusive families, you know that there is always a spouse (unfortunately, thanks to the way society programs us, is most often female, but not exclusively) who, over time, becomes a shell, desperate to salvage something, _anything_, from the wreck around her. It gets even worse in a society that places a high premium on the inviolate power of the father, like the medieval Japanese society that the Fire Nation was based on (and don't point fingers, friends; at the end of the day, modern America isn't all that much better). Don't worry, though; in the first chapter of Book 2 (like I said, this project is going to be a long haul), there will come a moment when Ursa makes you cheer.

And maybe cry. No promises that won't happen.

Anyways, I think that's enough of that. In the next chapter, Team Avatar heads off into the wild blue yonder. Stay tuned!


	20. KATARA VI

KATARA

THEY LEFT TOWN BEFORE DAWN. Katara found herself reveling in the pre-sunrise darkness. The moon hung low and heavy on the horizon, and she could feel its power coursing through her veins. The weather was glorious, cool and calm and light, the breeze blowing in from the countryside, carrying a heavy scent of trees and fields and peaceful quiet. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and savored it, letting it seep into her very bones. It was moments like this when she didn't mind her quest, when she could almost _believe_ in it.

But such moments never lasted. In the end, she had to open her eyes and face reality.

_No matter how much reality sucked…_

So, she opened her eyes, and discovered that reality, alas, had not changed. She was still standing in an open field, several miles beyond the outskirts of Omashu, dressed in Earth Kingdom clothes, a pack slung over her shoulder and a waterskin resting against her hip. Before her in the vanishing darkness was one of the things called an _air bison_, munching loudly on some hay. On the ground rested a couple of boxes and sacks, which her brother was leisurely loading onto the animal's saddle, tunelessly humming an unidentifiable ditty. Lobsang was leaning against the bison's side, puffing his pipe and smiling his usual soft, gentle smile.

And beside her was the Avatar, who seemed to have recovered enough of her spunk and inner spark to once more become brave enough to ask Katara a question before dawn.

"What was that, Korra?"

She had asked without looking. She had never been a morning person, and it didn't help that, rather than sleep, they had spent the night before slipping out of the city, desperate to make the rendezvous before sunrise. She felt tired and worn to a nub, and, as often happened when forced to interact with human beings before sunrise, felt her thoughts taking an ugly turn. She began wondering about how, if she avoided direct eye contact, Korra would remember one of the primary rules of their company, that being, _Momma Katara doesn't engage in conversation before sunrise. _Her thoughts turned, and suddenly, she was thinking about Nanook, the closest she had ever had to a boyfriend, and how he had begged her, with big, puppy dog eyes, to not go on this quest, no matter how important her parents said it was. And, not for the first time (_though those times were generally at moments like this_), she half-wished she had listened, nevermind the fact that she had been about to dump him anyways. Sure, he was a nice boy, but he just wasn't much of a kisser. On top of that, he had been rather boring.

_Unlike a certain Fire Nation lieutenant she had dreamed of the night before…_

That, finally, brought a smile to her lips, and some semblance of kind feelings towards other human beings. Fixing the images from the all-too-brief dream she had had before they stole away into the night in her mind, she listened as Korra said, "I said, _nice morning, isn't it?_"

Katara shrugged, mind still on a scarred face and rough hands. _Maybe fantasizing about Zuko is the secret I've been looking for to make me tolerable in the morning. _"Yeah, I suppose."

A pause followed, which was not at all awkward for Katara, drifting through pleasant thoughts as she was, but seemed to have reduced Korra to a bout of nervous fidgeting. Frowning, Katara finally turned her gaze to the girl, and said, "Korra, dear?"

Korra stopped, but not really; her body continued to vibrate with nervous energy. _How does she do that? _Katara wondered, not for the first time. "Yes, Katara?"

"How on earth are you fidgeting so much? You should be exhausted." She looked away, back to the goings-on with the air bison. "Gods, I can barely stand up straight."

She felt the shrug rather than saw it. "Yeah…um…_yeah…_I dunno, honestly." Another shrug, and then the fidgeting began again. "I guess I'm just…_excited? _It's been a long time since we flew. Aren't you excited, too?"

_No_, she thought, _I most definitely am __**not**_. Katara _hated_ flying. It was cold and windy and she could never quite get used to that strange, weightless feeling that came with it, or how her stomach would leap and fall in her gut, or how envious she was of how Sokka could somehow, _gods only know why_, manage to fall fast asleep within minutes. Katara, for her part, could rarely even _nap_ when flying, though today, she had a feeling it would go _much_ easier. But rather than risk derailing the tentative recovery the girl was beginning to make, she sighed and said, "I'm just ready for a _nap_, to be brutally honest."

There was another long pause, while Korra chewed on that. The girl positively _loved_ flying; if she had a choice, that's all she'd do. Katara would be lying if she said it didn't make her at least a _tiny bit_ envious.

She wasn't prepared for how Korra broke the silence, though. "Katara?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright?"

That really did catch Katara off guard. She tried to remember the last time anyone had asked her that, and then she was thinking of Yue, and she didn't want to do that at all. Putting on a brave face, she turned back to Korra and said, "What do you mean?"

Korra shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck. "I dunno…I guess…I mean…we never ask you, do we? You always ask us that, but we never ask it back." Another shrug, and then Korra put on that amazing smile she had, and performed a finishing move on Katara's heart. "So, I figured I should check on you, you know?"

_Oh, why couldn't you have just been my little sister, and not the Avatar? That would be fucking perfect, you know that? _But Katara didn't say that. The girl was just beginning to come back to life, and she wasn't about to risk ruining that. So, instead, she put on an enigmatic look and said, "Oh…I'm fine. I'm just…tired. A nice nap will do me good."

_And a break_. It was the first time she had thought the word, and it shocked her with the force with which it burst upon her mind. _I need a gods-damn motherfucking __**break**_.

_And a boy named Zuko. That would be nice._

She caught her mind sliding past simple pleasant thoughts and towards things that would be best to save when her hoped-for nap came. She swallowed them with a gulp, and said, "Yeah, a _nap_."

"And a book?" the girl who had only recently begun to learn to read teased.

"Yes," Katara admitted, "a book."

"I bet the Bei Fongs have _tons_ of books," Korra prompted.

Katara chuckled. "I bet they do." She thought of other things a family with that amount of wealth and prestige might have, things that would bring Korra further into the light, and said, "In fact, I bet they-"

But before she could finish, her brother's voice cut in, telling them to hurry up and get on board before he left them behind. Korra laughed and raced towards the pilot's bench, using the tiny bit of airbending she had thus far learned to propel herself up and into place. Lobsang was already there, putting away his pipe before he reached out and ruffled Korra's hair. Katara, meanwhile, clambered up the air bison's side, stretching out her hand to meet her brother's own. Their hands met, and Sokka pulled her in. She rolled over the lip of the saddle, sitting up and tossing her pack and waterskin to the floor, before settling in beside her brother, their backs to the front lip of the saddle, shielded from the wind by the pilot's bench. Once they were settled, Lobsang turned, smiling, as usual. "Are my young drinking companions ready for another adventure?"

"Fuck adventure," Sokka growled, pulling a blanket over himself and his sister and settling down for his usual (_no doubt easily acquired_, Katara thought with envy) in-flight nap. "I'll settle for wine, women, and song, thank you very much."

_That's more like my brother_. Enjoying the burst of his old self, Katara giggled and said, "Replace the _women_ with _men_, and I'll second that motion."

Sokka laughed, and gave his sister a nudge. "Or one Fire Nation Lieutenant, at least."

She stuck her tongue out at him, feeling happier than she had in months. "Hush, you, or I'll find a way to scrounge up that Kyoshi Warrior again."

He rolled his eyes. "Please don't. She was awesome, but I'd rather _not_ put on a skirt again."

"Aww," Katara said, pouting, "but you looked so _cute_, what with the make-up and everything…"

Up on the pilot's bench, Korra turned to Lobsang, a happy gleam in her eyes, and asked, "Think they're done?"

Lobsang laughed. "If you knew a thing or two about siblings, you'd know that they've barely even _begun_."

Korra shrugged. "It's okay; I don't mind. It's been too long, you know?"

Katara almost didn't hear this, because beside her, her brother was smiling as he said, "Hey, I'll still get the last word, just you watch."

Katara just scoffed. "Fat fucking chance."

"Sun's not even up, and already the first f-bombs!" Korra announced, pumping a triumphant fist in the air.

"Oh," Lobsang chided, patting her shoulder, "let them have their fun."

Korra laughed. "Eh, I don't mind. It's just a contest we have, you know?"

"And who won?" Lobsang inquired, no doubt genuinely curious.

"We'll let you know when we figure out the rules," Katara said, feeling, for the first time since…_since it happened_…that things were going to be alright.

Lobsang shook with laughter, shaking his head. "Oh, you young ones." And with that, just as Katara and her brother finished fighting over how they were going to sleep, the weathered monk snapped the reins, shouted, _Yip, yip, yip_, and they were off.

As soon as they were safely in the air, Sokka growled, "Fuck, I hate flying."

To that, Katara could only snort, and say, "I know right?" But even as they settled in for their nap, and sleep rushed in far more quickly than Katara could ever have hoped, she couldn't quite ignore the prick in her heart that reminded her of the last time they had all felt this confidant.

* * *

What was that, foreshadowing? _Perish the thought_. Come on, guys, it's not like I have a history of sucker punching my readers. Right? _Right?!_

I mean, that would just be _mean_, you know? And I'm not _mean_. *_quickly hides a few chapters of "A Different Path"*_

ANYHOO, on with the show! There's not much to say here. Just moving the plot along, moving the chess pieces across the board, all that jazz. Just so you guys know, even when it appears that nothing's happening, _something is always happening_. I'm really stretching my wings here, or, at least, _I hope I am_, and the title of the piece isn't just a clever little joke designed to show off how much debt my degree left me with.

I mean, sure, most of my jokes are like that, _but not this one._

Real quick aside: One of you guys (again, I can't find the damn review) mentioned that you were confused as to what, exactly, happened at the North. To that, I would point you to the relevant episodes, and then ask for patience. It's in here, I promise!

So, that's it for today. Gotta go be Dr. Husband and all that jazz. There might or might not be an update or two tomorrow; I have, like, an _absurd _amount of crap to do. Who would've thought that unemployment would keep me busier than employment did? Seriously, what the fuck is up with that?

Also, random point...anyone living in North Texas know of any decent jobs? Preferably with health insurance, but I'm not picky. And if anyone says, _Have you tried LinkedIn_, you get fucking _banned._

In the next chapter (when it comes, which will be either tomorrow or Saturday), Zuko marches out, and thinks about shitty poetry. Stay tuned!


	21. ZUKO VII

ZUKO

THEY MARCHED JUST AS THE SUN WAS SPILLING OUT OVER THE HORIZON. It was, Zuko admitted to himself, a glorious morning, cool and crisp, hinting at a marvelous day, perfect for a march. There was a spring to the company's step as Master Sergeant Kitajima gestured at the drummers, calling out, "Left…left…left-right-left-_MARCH!_" A giddiness came into Zuko's heart, and he was glad to see it spread to his boys. They did their best to put on a good show, rubbing in the fact that they would get to skip the upcoming royal review. They marched in serried ranks, the blades of their _yaris _flashing scarlet in time with the drums, and with that, they passed out of the gates and strode off into the countryside, a small snake of black and red glittering in the coming dawn.

It was, Zuko couldn't help but think, both inspiring and kind of a shock, to see the company marching bright and happy at full strength after far too long in the wilds of the northeast, where the War raged on and on and on. They marched with all of their components and in full battle-rattle, and to Zuko, at least, they made an impressive sight. He ran through the figures in his mind, the facts and numbers learned by rote in cramped classrooms at the Academy.

_A full strength company of His Majesty the Fire Lord's Royal Land Forces consists of four combat platoons of foot, a support and heavy weapons platoon (the baggage train, basically), a dozen or so riders mounted on komodo-rhinos (for scouting and screening purposes), and, at the front, the Captain in Command and his clerks, runners, and Company Master Sergeant, all but the Company Master Sergeant mounted. Cadet Tokugawa!_

_ Sir! (stand, bow)_

_ What elements have I left out?_

_ Sir! (bow) If a Company marches at full strength, you must also account for the buglers, the Color Sergeant and his bodyguard, and the drummers._

_ Excellent, Cadet Tokugawa!_

_ Thank you, sir! (bow, sit)_

The lessons went on, ringing through his head, forever couched in the rattling snare drum that was old Master Soseki's voice. _Within each combat platoon, there is always at least a squad's worth of firebenders. The Colors travel with the lead platoon, typically chosen by lot. Each platoon's firebenders are to be evenly distributed through the platoon while on the march, so that one strike may not kill them all. By custom, the platoon sergeant marches in the back and to the left of the column, the platoon lieutenant in front to the right._

Zuko smiled, laughing as a call-and-response of the traditionally obscene kind began between the lead platoon (his) and the rear platoon, rippling back and forth through the column. _I can't believe I still remember all of that, so precisely. _He chuckled softly, shaking his head. _I even remember how Master Soseki used to phrase it._

About an hour out of camp, the pomp and circumstance wore itself out. The company was out in the countryside, following a winding, well-maintained road that rose and fell and curved among rolling hills and through whispering forests. The Captain nodded at the Master Sergeant, the Master Sergeant bellowed at the drummers, a few final beats rang out, a bugle sounded, and with that, the company relaxed. Helmets were soon dangling from belts or stuffed into packs. _Yaris_ went from perfectly straight pillars to being lazily propped over shoulders. Zuko followed the example of his fellow officers, unbuckling his _katana_ and resting it in the crook of his neck, holding it by the end of the scabbard. Cigarettes were lit, grins were bared, and tunes were whistled. In short, the march, the _true_ march, began in earnest, which, of course, Zuko thought with a sigh, meant that it was time to be _bored._

Around the time that the Regiment was rotated out of active combat duty, Toru, along with quite a few other officers and senior enlisted men, had finally been allowed to take a bit of leave. Men who got leave, especially those well-born enough to go back to the Homeland, always came back shaking their heads, chuckling at the questions they had been asked. It never failed: Everyone always seemed to think that the greatest threats to a soldier were injury, sickness, or death. The sad truth was that _boredom_ was, by far, the single greatest threat to a soldier's sanity and well-being. Boredom could destroy even the strongest mind, and outright shatter the weakest ones. Even Zuko, who _loved _the Army, occasionally got so bored that the idea of lopping off his fingers didn't seem an unreasonable way to pass the time. Camp was boring, drill was boring, even _combat_ could be boring, given the right circumstances.

And as for marching? _Marching_, Zuko had once proclaimed (_a few sakes in_) _is boring as __**fuck.**_ There was a very good reason why so many soldiers learned to nap while walking; after all, it kills the time. Others hum, or gossip with those around them, or construct elaborate fantasies in their heads. Some play games, like the two fresh-faced privates a few ranks behind Zuko playing an imaginatively obscene version of _I Spy_, while still others just relax and enjoy the scenery. There were even some who just zoned out, allowing their minds to float far away. One could always pick those individuals out; they were the ones who staggered a bit when the halt was called, blinking in the dying sunlight, looking around, wondering how they got there.

Zuko, though, had a special pastime, one that he was heartily ashamed of. In a nutshell, as he walked, dust (_or, if he was unlucky enough, mud_) gathering at his feet, he composed extraordinarily shitty poetry. As in, epically awful, mind-numbingly grotesque, terrible poetry. He always tried to explain to others, who never seemed to believe him, just how bad it was. He even composed in flowery court language, just to make it as unbearable as possible. It had become a personal competition of sorts; which each new poem, he would try to make it worse than the one before it. He didn't dare write any of it down, of course; for one thing, he didn't think them worth the ink and paper, for another, he was terrified his friends would find them and make him share.

The funny thing, he decided, as they entered the third hour of the march, the company cresting a low ridge and descending into a wide, shallow valley, was that he was more afraid of his friends _liking _his work than he was of them hating it. He had only shared one poem, once, with Katara, late on that last night, as they tried to keep back the dawn. To his eternal shock, she had _liked it_. This revelation had thrown him into a panic. Even as he tried to explain how terrible it was, how unwieldy the composition, how he didn't even obey the most _basic_ rules of structure and form, she had shaken her head, giving him that smile he had grown so attached to (_and how did I manage to do __**that**__ so quickly?_), and telling him it was just fine, _she liked the way it sounded._

He still wasn't sure what to do about that.

_I wonder what Azula would think…_

And all while he thought, his mind following endless loops and whorls and permutations and digressions, they marched. For lunch, they broke for an hour, stretching and napping by a slow-moving stream. They ate a simple meal of rice and dried meats, and most of the company took the chance to dip neckerchiefs into the cool water and wrap them around their necks. On the opposite bank, a group of traveling peasants had the same idea, and Zuko watched with deep amusement while his boys attempted to flirt with the girls while fathers and brothers and sergeants alike glared. It never failed to astound him, how the most innocent-looking private, fresh from the Homeland, would ignore all language barriers and do his best to at least _sound_ charming.

Though, what really shocked him, and never failed at doing so, was that, somehow, someway, there were always a few girls who flirted _back_.

They encountered more people as the day wore on. Most just pulled off the road and waited, while others just passed by on the sides. One surly old man led an ostrich-horse as weathered and beaten as he was right through the middle of the column, ignoring the troops completely, an event the company found absolutely _hysterical_. Some of the boys even cheered him on, slapping him on the back and shouting encouragement, actions that he ignored completely. It was the most exciting thing to happen on that leg of the march, so, naturally, the old man was a subject of conversation for _days_.

Finally, the sun headed for the horizon. They pulled up in an open field. Watches were set and camp was pitched. A hot meal was served, bowls of thick _udon_ in broth with bits of sliced meat and bread, along with the day's beer ration, one mug per man. There followed the evening roll call, then the end-of-day briefings, first of the junior officers with the Captain, then the officers with the sergeants. After that, the watches were checked, and the officers did their end-of-day rounds. Zuko and his compatriots joined together to mock poor Yukawa, who was unlucky enough to draw the lot to be the night's duty officer, after which, at least an hour after the rest of the company was asleep, the officers finally headed for their tent. As Zuko headed in, Toru reached out and stopped him, pulling him aside, and they had a last cigarette while watching the stars spin overhead.

With that, it was finally off to bed.

In the morning, reveille blew. The company had a light breakfast, dressed, struck camp, formed ranks, and, at the signal from the Captain, headed out onto the road to do it all again.

Zuko sighed, ignoring the first-hour's-march pain in the balls of his feet.

_One day down, four more to go…_

* * *

I could never work in any medical field. I know this, because taking care of sick people always leaves me feeling worn the fuck out, and, in this case, _I'm taking care of some I love, respect, and want to spend the rest of my life with_. If I had to spend my days taking care of complete strangers? I'd love my fucking _mind_, yo.

For the curious, my wife is absolutely fine. She went to the doctor yesterday, and now she's hopped up on antibiotics and watching _Fantasia_, which is on Netflix, and how cool is that? What happened was, where we were in Mexico was quite warm, to the point that, during the days, I'd go out in short sleeves. The sudden shift from cold here to warm there, and then back again, nevermind the change in air (it was dry down there, and all nice and wet here), did not do wonders for her lungs. Fortunately, I got her to the doctor before it developed into full-blown bronchitis, and she is very much on the mend. Woo!

For those who are still curious, she's an excellent patient. Much better than me. I'm one of those people who can't stand being waited on; when I'm sick, all I want is to be left completely alone. This is mostly because my family is messed up, and doesn't know how to handle someone being sick, which resulted in me getting into the habit of just taking care of myself as much as possible. On the one hand, this is admirable, because I hate people like my step-dad, who can't even wipe his own ass if he gets so much as a cold. On the other hand, this tendency of mine once resulted in my mother finding me staggering through the house for a glass of water, wrapped in a blanket, while I shivered from my 104-degree temperature.

I'm an idiot, what can I say? There's a reason I identify so strongly with Zuko.

But yeah, _the fucking story_. Not much to add here, just some world-building and such. Also, the bit about composing shitty poetry in one's head is based on how I used to pass the time on Boy Scout hikes. Those times were, oddly enough, when I first got into story telling. Weird on these things happen.

In the next chapter, ships pass in the night, and I'm sure someone will get annoyed with me. Stay tuned!

PS - Today, I finally fulfilled a personal goal by buying Indio beer, thus bringing a week-long quest to a close. For those playing the home game, Indio is a brand of Mexican beer that I fell in love with during my week in Mexico. It's quite delicious, and if you like beer, I highly recommend you pop in to the nearest Mexican grocery story and grab a six-pack (or a case, since that's all the Michoacana I went to had). Other recommendations include Carta Blanca, Dos Quis Amber, and Ocho Reales.


	22. SHIPS IN THE NIGHT

SHIPS IN THE NIGHT

THE SECOND DAY OF ZUKO'S MARCH WAS ALSO THE SECOND DAY OF KATARA'S FLIGHT. When lunchtime struck, the company had found another small stream, and more than a few men were having a quick nap, while others talked, washed their feet, and changed their socks. Lieutenants Tokugawa and Watanabe were a little ways off, smoking and sipping the last bit of broth from their lunches, talking about nothing in particular. In the air bison up above, the Avatar was chatting away, reveling in how the rushing air seemed to be washing her sadness away. Lobsang floated serenely in his own little world, while Chief Hakoda's children played an aimless card game, one which had no rules, no point, and, thus far, no end.

Of the two parties, it was the Avatar who spotted something first. Looking down, her eyes flew wide, and with a slight squeal in her voice, pointed and bellowed something about there being an army beneath them. Bored, Sokka sighed and looked over the side, taking a moment before shaking his head and climbing back down. "Nope, Korra, afraid not. At most, that's just a company."

For a moment, Korra didn't know what to do. Those were, quite simply, the first words Sokka had spoken to her since they left the North. Her blinked, and discovered that her heart had leapt right up into her throat. She swallowed, forced it down, and, unable to think of anything else to say, sputtered, "Yeah…but…_so?!_"

The siblings shared a _look_. Sokka's said, _Ugh_, while Katara's said, _Come on, keep talking to her, it won't kill you, you know. _When he gave no sign of budging, Katara rolled her eyes and said, "Probably just a patrol or something. If they don't seem inclined to bother us, we won't bother them." She redoubled her glare at her brother, who, after a few moments of resistance, huffed and hunched his shoulders.

"Low profile, remember, Korra?" he muttered, sounding none too pleased to be doing so, cursing himself for opening his big mouth.

Korra sighed, muttering, "Yeah, I guess…I mean, I wasn't going to suggest we _do_ anything, I was just…I dunno…" Another sigh, while she reached up and pushed some hair from her eyes. "Still…doesn't it ever bother you guys, how we spend more time _avoiding_ the Fire Nation than _fighting it?_"

"Until you are a fully realized Avatar, young lady," Lobsang intoned, as calm and cool as ever, "I'm afraid that discretion is the better part of valor."

There was a moment there, between the four of them, that stretched out, thin as silk and brittle as weakened glass. Unspoken words hung there, uncalled-for memories, pains that all wished to forget. Katara found herself glaring at her brother, daring him to snap, to let his anger and his hurt and his frustration spill over. Sokka glared right back, not because she was wrong to worry, but…

He sighed. _Doesn't she know me better than that? _He looked down, and began to reshuffle the cards.

Up in the saddle, Korra felt the darkness creep up from deep within. The doubts were there, buried deep down, the doubts and the fears, the knowledge that, at the end of the day, it was all her fault, that she had failed in the worst possible way, all out of a childish urge to lash out at her enemy in any way possible, no matter the cost. _Never again_, she said to herself. _Never again._

"Yeah, I suppose so…" She gave herself a shake, sparing one final glance down and back, before saying, more to have something to say than for anything else, "I wonder if that horrible officer is down there, the one with that awful scar."

Katara stiffened, and Sokka saw. His _Inner Big Brother_ was pricked into life, and before he quite knew what he was saying, and before his sister could say something worse (_he saw that look that passed over her eyes_), he replied, "Zuko wasn't a horrible person, Korra. As a matter of fact, he was a pretty solid guy, all things considered. A good dude all around. I liked him."

_And I've spent the past year-and-a-half suspecting that I liked him a lot more than can be covered by the word __**like**_, Katara thought, but did not say.

"Yeah, he was alright, I suppose…but," Korra said, "he _was_ on the other side…"

"So?" Lobsang asked. "We do not have a monopoly on _good_, my dear. There are black hearts and evil souls who support you, and noble and good men who march beneath the Fire Lord's banner."

"And besides," Katara added, fully aware of how damn _wistful_ she sounded, "I didn't think his scar was that bad. Honestly, I found it rather…well…_dashing_."

"You would," Sokka snarked, making a show of imitating a swooning girl, after which all, even the Avatar, burst into giggles as the air bison flew on.

Meanwhile, down on the ground, the distant lowing of the air bison attracted the attention of two young officers. They stopped their aimless conversation, looking up, shielding their eyes from the sun with their hands. They found it quickly, and watched it slowly float across the sky.

"Is it just me," Zuko observed, "or are there more of those things in the sky these days?"

Toru shrugged, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "I guess? I haven't really noticed." His face broke into a grin, and he turned a knowing look to his friend, though there was something else in that look, deep down, that even his best friend didn't see. "Maybe it's just wishful thinking on your part."

"Fuck you," Zuko growled out, though he said it with a smile and not the least hint of malice, "and the ostrich-horse you rode in on."

"Hey, you're just jealous because my personal ostrich-horse back at camp is _cute_."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"I will, thank you very much."

They chuckled, while Lieutenant Tokugawa continued to watch the air bison vanish from sigh. He would never admit it, even to his friend, but in his deepest heart-of-hearts, he thought, _Man, if only she __**was**__ up there…that might make this whole excursion worth the effort…_

A thought that was mirrored far above, as the daughter of Hakoda sighed and thought, _If only he was down there, because that just might be the break I need…_

* * *

_So close_. If there's a scene I'd like to see turned into fanart, this has to be in the top five. I like the image of Zuko looking up and Katara looking down, both thinking about the other, neither aware that the other one is right there.

Not much to be said here, so we'll just move on. I will say this, because I keep forgetting, and it's driving me crazy: To Lady Keylyn of Midgard (which has to be, hands down, the best username I've ever seen on here): _I KNOW RIGHT?! _I never followed LOK very closely, but that single final scene made me go back and hunt down the rest of the show. I just about lost my shit. It was pretty kickass, and, I have to admit, a pretty ballsy move, even if it was slightly ambiguous and left until the final few seconds. Personally, I was terrified that Bryke were going to pull something like how they ended ATLA (_which this shipper still isn't over_), but for once, they went with my personal ship, and I'm very happy about that.

_Not that I'm validating you suggest ship, or hinting that that might be my plan. Nope, not at all. *shifty eyes*_

Also, there's an absurdly long review marked _Guest_, which means I can't message you. SO, I can say that most of your questions will be answered, either in the current crop of updates, or in the near future. A big part of my personal style has always been to avoid, as much as possible, wholesale info-dumping, so a lot of questions about the past two years in the story before we jump in will be answered over time. _Patience, young Padawan learner. _That said: Yes, Katara hooked up with Zuko, and they really digged on each other (_heh_). Also, Kya wasn't killed by the Fire Nation, and so Katara doesn't have that pathological hatred that she had in the show. She's not a fan, but it's a measured, nuanced dislike. That was really the big change in her character for this little experiment.

This note is officially almost as long as the chapter. Time to move on, yes?

In the next chapter, we experience some feels, and I try to make amends to a character I have not treated well over my fanfic career. Stay tuned!


	23. MAI I

MAI

A FEW DAYS NORTH OF OMASHU, THEY PASSED A TROOP OF CAVALRY. She didn't want to look, but she couldn't help it. She knew he wouldn't be there, that he was still far away, and besides, he was _infantry_, not _cavalry_, but…well…she had to look, and scan their faces, and try to see through their helmets to the features hidden beneath. She really couldn't help herself.

_She never could, where he was concerned…_

It was as if…_as if that day had never ended._ She was sitting in the dark of her palanquin, her hands trembling in her desire to chew her fingernails, having long since lost count of how many times she had died on the inside. She had been a complete and utter mess that day, four years before, long before she decided that, consequences be damned, she was going to the docks, _and the gods damn anyone who tried to stop her. _She had spent so much time that morning, preparing for this parting, getting every little aspect of her being as close to perfection as possible, and she couldn't help but fear it would all be for naught. Being always on the verge of sobbing had ruined her make-up, and, in the aforementioned effort not to chew her nails to the quick, she had sent her hands into her hair, completely ruining what a servant had spent an hour to prepare. Nevermind that the hands themselves were still trembling, and her whole body was shaking, and the entire world had a strange, surreal glow. There was a rushing in her ears, and she felt on the edge of passing out. And this palanquin, this stupid gods-damn traveling _prison_ that he mother simply _refused_ to let her go anywhere without, it was moving so gods-damn fucking _slow_. Didn't they know? Didn't _it _know? She had to hurry, _had to._ If she didn't make it…

_If she didn't make it…_

She shook her head. _No_. She refused to think about that. She _would_ make it. She _had_ to make it. Never before had she ever actually _done_ something on her own in her entire _miserable life_, and she wasn't about to allow her first attempt to end in failure.

So, yes, she would make it. She would because she had decided to. It was like Azula always said: _If you want something bad enough, don't wait around, go out and make it happen._

A sob had broken in her throat, just then. She caught it, bit down, swallowed it, nearly choked on the sensation of a hot poker being crammed down her throat. It was Azula's words that had done it, the words she had always listened to but never actually _heard._

_Not until it was too late…_

Even four years later, after countless hours of painful remembering, she could not say exactly how she had known that the palanquin had stopped. Honestly, she didn't even remember it doing so. All she knew, all she could ever recall, was that, one moment, she was on the verge of tears, of yet _another _breakdown, and then there was a sun, and a sky, and seagulls, and she was racing towards a line of uniformed men with duffel bags slung over their shoulders, her attendants racing behind, desperate to catch up.

She ran through the docks, ducked and weaved around and through uniformed men who stared after her, eyes wide, confused, but disinclined to stop a noblewoman from going where she willed. The scene was one of intricately organized chaos, and had she been in her right mind, she might have noticed and felt a sense of awe and wonder at what His Majesty's will could bring about. As it was, all she could do was run towards that file of shuffling soldiers, desperately searching their faces, looking for bandages and a set of shoulders she would know anywhere.

In the end, it was, as usual, Azula's words that let her to the right place. Azula, who seemed to know everything, and was prepared for anything. _Oh, gods, why didn't I listen to her before? Maybe then…_

_ Maybe then…_

That was the thought that brought those words back. In a flash, it was the night before, and Azula was crouched in her bedroom window, Ty Lee vaguely glimpsed in the background, eyes alert, watching for the guards. Azula, who rattled off the _whys _and _wherefores_ and made Mai repeat it all back. Azula, who kept telling Mai not to expect much, to remember that the love had been one-sided. Azula, who kept telling her to stop crying.

Azula, who said, _He'll be escorted by two members of the Royal Guard. Be fast; they might try to stop you. _So it was, with those words firmly in her mind, that she scanned the shuffling soldiers and saw two tall men with those horrid skull-like masks, flanking a plainly uniformed officer with bandages covering half his face.

_Zuko…_

She ran. Her attendants bellowed for her, but she ignored her. She grabbed her skirts and hiked them up and ran, her feet pounding against the ground. She couldn't breathe, could barely _think_, but she ran, even as tears clouded her sight. She ran and she ran and she ran, and when one of those two walking skulls tried to stop her, she shoved him aside with a strength she'd never known she had and hurled herself into the arms of the bandaged officer.

How she kept from bursting into tears, she would never know, _still_ didn't know. The most coherent thought was that, after two years of betrothal, this was the first time she had ever actually _touched_ the boy named Zuko.

She knew he didn't love her, she knew that though he liked her fine, his inner spirit, the very thing she had fallen for, rebelled against anything forced upon him by others. She knew she would always represent the royal life he'd never really wanted. She knew he thought of her as just his beloved sister's best friend, or one of them, at least. She knew that at least part of the reason she fell for him so hard was because she was only fourteen when she met him, and he was the first boy who had ever treated her as a person, worthy of respect. She knew all of this, and she knew he knew it, which was why she would love him forever for the simple fact that he didn't yell and shove her away. No, he hugged her back, and held her tight, and when she dared to look up at him, he smiled at her, and said, "Hey there…"

It was hard not to look away. Once, she would have. She would have seen the bandages and the sadness in that one remaining eye, and the brittleness in his smile, and looked away. She would've retreated into her little shell and refused to come out. She didn't, though. She thought of her best friends and then two words rang out in her mind, two words she heard in a voice she only vaguely recognized as her own:

_No more._

"Hey," she said back; it was all she could think to say.

His smile turned into a smirk, and he hugged her once more, the pulled back, holding her at arm's length. He looked her up and down, and sighed. "You look…you look great, Mai. A sight for sore eyes."

She giggled, because she couldn't help it, and prayed to all the gods that she wasn't blushing, because wouldn't _that_ just be far too much? "Well…um…thank you." She peeled her eyes away from his face just long enough to give him a once-over. "You look pretty…pretty good yourself."

He chuckled. "Oh?"

She nodded, far too vigorously; the memory always filled her with embarrassment. "Yes, you do. A uniform suits you." She looked down at the ground. "I always knew it would." She took a deep, trembling breath, then looked back up, looked into that one good eye, and couldn't help but wonder where that handsome, fumbling sixteen-year-old boy she had swooned over, doodled pictures of in her school notebook, had gone. "I was going to follow you."

His smile turned very sad, and his eye was filled with something like regret. "I know, Mai."

Another breath, another grasp for strength. "I would've made a good officer's wife."

He nodded. "You would've made the best officer's wife there ever was. But-"

He didn't get to finish the thought, because one of his minders cleared his throat, and said, in a voice cold and almost mocking, "Beg pardon, _Lieutenant_, but it's time to go."

Mai's heart fell, and then rose again, as Zuko rounded on the man and snarled, "His Highness my father and His Majesty my uncle have been waiting to be rid of me for over eighteen years. Surely, they can wait another ten seconds."

The guard shrugged and spread his hands. "Don't look at me, _Lieutenant_. Orders, as they say, _are orders."_

Zuko sighed, then turned back to Mai, an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, but I have to go."

She nodded, tears burning in her eyes. "I know. I just…I had to see you go." She looked down, swallowing hard. "I wanted you to see one friendly face before you left."

There was pause, then his hand was beneath her chin, and he was tilting her face up, and he was smiling that same sad, kind smile that was so uniquely his.

"And for that, I will be eternally in your debt." Then, he leaned down, and kissed her softly on the forehead. "Goodbye, Mai," he whispered, "and don't forget that I believe in you." He hugged her once more, then pulled himself away, readjusting the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Just…don't let this be the end, okay?"

She blinked, her feet turned to stone even as the guards grabbed her Zuko, her Zuko that had never been hers, would never be hers, by the arms and started to lead him to the waiting troopship. "What do you mean?" she croaked.

He shot her one last look over his shoulder. "Just remember that this isn't all you have to be." And with that, he was gone.

She didn't understand then. It wasn't until over two years later, when Azula slipped into her room in the dead of night and outlined her plan, that she finally got it.

She smiled in the darkness of the carriage, a savage smile that she looked up and saw mirrored on the face of her best friends.

She had said yes, right that instant, two years before.

She hadn't even had to think about it.

* * *

If there's one character I feel bad for my treatment of them in my past fics, it's Mai. Unlike most rabid Zutara shippers (_and I am rabid; I won't even look at Kataang fanart, because I have problems_), I actually like Mai. I don't think she's right for Zuko, or, most importantly, that he's right for her, but I do like her. Still, she never really fit into my past stories very well, so she often just kind of got..._brushed aside_. Well, that ends today. Mai is here, and I hope to make it all up to her.

And to those who read and cried over a particular part in _A Different Path_, I hope to eventually make up for that, too.

Back to that overly long guest review: About Ursa being OOC, everyone's a bit OOC in this; it's kind of the nature of this particular beast. That said, without getting to far into things that will eventually be revealed, basically, she had about ten extra years of abuse between when Azulon would have died, and the day in this fic when Zuko was burned and banished. Take that into account when you think about things.

Also, I just realized that the Lady Kaelyn of Midgard is the lovely kaylinthehuman. Why'd you change your username, girl?! I mean, the new one is badass, but still..._I was confused! _:-P

In the next chapter, Zuko gives one of his boys a talking to (a boy whose name I will ask you to remember), and we set up a little reunion. Stay tuned!


	24. ZUKO VIII

ZUKO

IF THERE WAS ONE MAJOR THING THAT ZUKO FELT WAS LEFT OUT OF HIS EDUCATION, IT WAS THE IMPORTANCE OF _ACTING_ FOR AN OFFICER. So much of what he had to do came down to putting on a show. As an officer, he often had to look angry when he was far from it, look relaxed and sublime when he was, in fact, furious. When he was hurt, he had to pretend it was nothing more than a scratch, and when he was terrified and panicked, he had to not only act like nothing was wrong, but that whatever was going on was the most natural thing in the world, and really, it was _you_, conscript not a month out of basic training, who was acting irrationally. Those arrows? _Just an annoyance. _All of those flying rocks that our firebenders can't seem to knock down fast enough? _All part of the plan. _The battalion commander just caught an arrow to the throat? _No big, he wasn't doing much for us, anyways. Now buck up, prepare to charge, and if my hand's shaking, it's just from excitement. After all, would I lie to you?_

_ Yes, _he thought, _I absolutely __**would**__ lie to you, but never out of malice, only to keep you alive._

His current situation was a case in point. It was the third day of the march. The company had stopped for lunch, having found yet another little stream. They were stretched out along the banks of the stream, eating, lounging, relaxing. Out of the corner of his eye, Zuko noticed an ornate carriage decked out in reds and blacks and golds, carved so that the roof seemed to be on fire. It was surrounded by a troop of cavalry, some who had stayed behind with their charge, others who had wandered over to join his company by the stream. Not far from where Zuko was, a cluster of veterans, most, for all of their experience, younger than Zuko, sat in the shade of a tree, enjoying the show.

The show in question consisted of Zuko himself, vibrating in a towering rage, waving a pair of socks about. Below him, a private knelt, head bowed, quivering with shame. _His name is Minamoto_, Zuko thought; he knew all of his boys' names. _He's from a tiny village in the southern provinces. He is barely six months into his National Service. He turned eighteen on the boat over from the Homeland. He's never even shaved._

But none of that mattered to Zuko. It didn't even matter that, every time he imagined what he looked like just then, bellowing in the _not-quite-scream_ that all those in a leadership role must master, waving a pair of socks around, he had to struggle not to collapse into hysterical laughter. No, what mattered was that a lesson had to be taught, and young Private Minamoto was not the only one who had to be taught it.

The lesson for Private Minamoto, as Zuko explained in clear, imaginatively obscene language, was a matter of socks. One would not think that _socks_ were of vital importance to a military unit; one would, however, be quite wrong. An army moves on its feet, and anything that jeopardizes those feet endangers the army. Feet can get soaked in sweat, making the skin soft and vulnerable. This can lead to chafing, the skin getting rubbed raw, sores opening up, toes falling off. Fungus can spread and take hold and, before you know it, half the platoon is out of action, all because of dirty socks. To prevent this, Zuko, like any good officer, had trained his boys to always pack plenty of socks. At every opportunity, feet were to be stripped bare and washed and dried, and socks were to be changed. At night, if one could, one was to wash the socks before bed, hanging them out to dry. It was, Zuko remembered, one of the first lessons Master Piandao had taught him, all those years before at the Academy, and Zuko remembered every word, as he remembered all of his lessons, both the good and the bad.

He even remembered the way Piandao, in his strangely refined voice, had worded it: _With clean and dry socks, an army can level a mountain._

And now, despite all of that, despite all the trouble Zuko had taken to make sure his boys had plenty of spares, and all the lessons and admonitions and reminders, the young man before him had decided, at some point, that his training was too much hassle to follow, and, after three days with the same socks, his feet were, to put it bluntly, _wrecked._ As a result, Zuko, after noticing that the boy was limping and pulling him aside, had been forced to take time out of his day to chew him out, while Sergeant Toshio, Zuko's platoon sergeant, chewed out the boy's squad commander for not noticing. To top it all off, young Minamoto was going to have to spend the rest of the march riding in a cart with the support platoon.

_A good time all around_, Zuko thought, still trying not to laugh, not because it wasn't serious, but because he knew he looked ridiculous. _Gods only know what Tsurukawa will have to say about it all tonight. I'm in for some ribbing, that's for sure._

It was when Zuko was at the height of his routine, a delicate moment when he and Sergeant Toshio had to be careful not to make eye contact (_for fear of giggling_), that a loudly cleared throat caught his attention. Annoyed at the interruption, Zuko spun on his heel, to discover before him one of the Captain's runners. Still in his groove, Zuko drew himself to his full height and bellowed, _"WHAT?!"_

The runner was an old hand; he had seen it all before, and he didn't let it faze him. The man clicked his heels, bowed, and said, "Beg pardon, sir, but Captain Ueno needs to see you right away."

Zuko blinked a few times, shoving his carefully practiced and rehearsed rage aside before nodding carefully. "Understood. I'll be there in a moment. Dismissed."

The runner bowed, Zuko bowed back, and then he was off. Zuko then rounded on Minamoto's squad, who all stood at a respectful distance, heads bowed in shame.

"And as for all of _you_," Zuko growled, _still_, to his surprise, waving the damn socks around, "the return to health of your comrade is now your personal responsibility. We stand together, or we fall. I expect a report on his health every day at morning, noon, and night, and until he's well and on his feet, you can all _forget_ about any fun in Gaoling. _Understood?!_"

They all bowed and chorused, "Sir, y_es, sir!_"

He nodded. "Very well. This squad had best learn how to look out for and take care of each other, or next time, I won't be so merciful." With that, he dropped the socks into Private Minamoto's lap and barked, _"Dismissed!"_

A bow, and the squad chorused another round of, _"Sir, yes, sir!"_ Zuko, though, was already walking away. He had turned on his heel and strode off, Sergeant Toshio at his heels, both struggling not to look at each other for fear of even the slightest chuckle escaping their lips.

He found the Captain not too terribly far away, going over a map laid out on a tree stump. With him was the sergeant in charge of the company's mounted scouts, as well as an officer Zuko didn't recognize, though he assumed the man was probably in charge of the men guarding whoever was in that carriage. Zuko came up to the Captain, snapped to attention, and bowed. "You needed me, sir?"

The Captain turned to Zuko with a thin smile and bowed back. "Afternoon, Lieutenant. I _did_ ask for you." He inclines hid head back towards where Zuko's platoon milled about. Back there, out of the corner of Zuko's good eye, he saw a number of things he wanted to see. For one, Minamoto's squad were not mistreating him; rather, they were patting the boy on the back, helping him to his feet, all while every last one looked shame-faced and disappointed in themselves. _Good. _Meanwhile, the Captain said, "And, might I say, a marvelous performance."

Zuko bowed. "Thank you, sir. I learned from the best."

The Captain laughed. "Ah, flattery, music to an old man's ears." He cleared his throat, in a way that said, _Good work, and sorry in advance for the bullshit that is about to follow, _before gesturing at the officer Zuko didn't recognize. "But where are my manners? This, Lieutenant, is Lieutenant Kawazaki, normally of the 27th Cavalry, on temporary duty. Lieutenant, I present Lieutenant Tokugawa, my best officer."

The man called Kawazaki exchanged bows with Zuko, before Zuko said, "A pleasure to meet you."

Kawazaki smiled. "Likewise. Your given name wouldn't happen to be _Zuko_, would it?"

Zuko had to put on another act just then. On the outside, he was smiling politely, face calm and serene, _welcoming_, even, as he said, "As a matter of fact, it is. May I ask why you need to know?" On the inside, though, he was rolling his eyes and groaning, _Fuck, now what?_

His inner feelings, he realized, must have been more obvious than he intended (_Azula always did tell me to work on my poker face_), because the Captain quickly cut into the conversation, saying, "Lieutenant Kawazaki here is escorting a young noblewoman to Gaoling to see these _Earth Rumble_ games, and it just so happens that she wishes to speak to you."

Zuko nodded, wracking his brain for a noblewoman whom he had both known and who might be in the Earth Kingdom, but in the end, he came up blank. The only guess he could possibly make was that it might be his sister, but he quickly cast that idea aside. For one, it was merely wishful thinking, and for another, Azula would never, not in a million years, travel in such a gaudy, stereotypical fashion. _And besides, _he thought, _she and Ty Lee would probably just appear randomly in my tent one night, rather than bother with all of this pomp. _Still processing this information, Zuko turned back to Kawazaki and said, "Oh? Is that so?" This time, Zuko did not bother to act. He did his absolute best to communicate his actual, unspoken question of, _Seriously, man, the fuck is this shit?_

The secret language of soldiers asserted itself, and the message was heard loud and clear. Kawazaki gave a knowing nod and shrugged. "I know, I know, it's not what any of us signed up for, sucking up to noble ladies out where they shouldn't be, but what can you do? It's just that, when the Lady Arinori found out that you boys were from the-"

_Click_. "Stop right there, if you don't mind."

Kawazaki stopped, while the Captain popped a bushy eyebrow. "So," he observed, "you _do _know her."

Zuko shook his head, a wistful (_if slightly confused_) smile creasing his face. "Yes, sir, it seems that I do." He focused on Kawazaki, asking, "Begging your pardon, sir, but she wouldn't _happen_ to be a young woman, around twenty or so, would she? Likes to play with knives? Can be a bit morose?" _Because if it's her fucking shrew of a mother, I'm walking the other way, I swear to Agni I will._

Kawazaki chuckled. "That would be her, my friend."

And just like that, Zuko felt better than he had for a good year-and-a-half. _Well, I'll be… _Mai may not have been the first, or even the tenth, person he most wanted to see (_not because of her, but because of his fear that she still carried a torch for him, and he didn't want to hurt her any more than he already had_), but at the end of the day, hers was a familiar, kindly face, and…well…

_What soldier was immune to that?_

* * *

And so my process of atonement continues. *sigh* Please forgive, Mai! And Suki, don't worry; I'll be making things up to you, too, I promise.

Someone (I don't feel like looking up who, even though the reviews are open in the next tab, but meh, _I'm lazy_) observed that all the sock-talk is reminiscent of Lieutenant Dan ranting at Bubba and Gump. This is true, but, oddly enough, not where I got all of this. Like I said, I used to be a Boy Scout, and I learned a lot there, though the biggest lesson ended up being, _If one is going to make out with a Girl Scout at a co-ed summer camp, choose one's location carefully._ But I digress...

Not too much more to add, I think. In the next chapter, we have a brief reunion! Stay tuned!


	25. A SHORT REUNION

A SHORT REUNION

"MY LADY."

"Your Highness."

"Heh…please. _Lieutenant_ will do just fine these days."

"I suppose…though, if you don't mind, perhaps I'll stick with _Zuko._"

"I feel I should take offense to that, my lady, considering that I spent two years trying to get you call me that."

"What can I say? I'm a slow learner."

"We both know that's not true, my lady."

"Maybe not anymore, but it was very much true when you knew me. And, while we're on the subject of _names_, since I can't address you by _your _proper title – no matter what anyone might say – then maybe it's time you called me _Mai_."

"As my lady commands."

"I see that the Army has done nothing to dull your wit."

"And I see that the years have taught you a sense of humor."

"Indeed…well…how are you, Zuko?"

"I'm…I'm pretty good, actually. A military life suits me, it seems."

"I always knew it would. You look just as dashing as you did four years ago."

"The scar helps, I've been told. Gives me that _bad boy_ flair."

"Ha! _You_, a bad boy? _Please._"

"I know, right? And yet…heh…how are _you_ doing, Mai?"

"I'm…heh…you know what I just remembered?"

"What?"

"How, when we were first betrothed, you used to ask me that, and I never knew how to answer. No one had ever asked me that before."

"Well…I was never very good at being a properly aloof nobleman."

"True…and as for how I am…I'm well. Enjoying a little vacation."

"I noticed! How did you swing that?"

"I agreed to not cause any trouble while my parents opened negotiations with Lord Kawabata for a marriage between myself and his eldest son."

"Wait…Yasunari?"

"You seem surprised."

"Well…I mean…he's a good guy, from what I remember, and I've heard that he was a good soldier, but…well…isn't he…well…"

"_Exactly._ It was your sister's idea. Brilliant, really. Even if the negotiations actually _go_ anywhere…"

"Neither of you will be in a rush. It's…quite devious. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Neither did I. But then again, a lot of things have changed."

"Yes, they have."

"But…some have not…"

"No…some have…remained the same…"

"I know…I just…I just wanted to see you. Azula would kill me if she knew I had passed up such an opportunity to see how you were."

"Yeah…how is my sister?"

"She's well. Causing endless trouble. The last betrothal she broke up caused quite a scandal, though I doubt it made it all the way out here. Your parents decided to let her go traipsing off just to get her out of the Palace for a while."

"Yeah, I actually heard a little about that."

"You did?"

"We get papers out here, you know. Most of it seems to have been hushed up, but a _royal education_, if it does nothing else, teaches you to read between the lines. Plus, Azula writes to me when she can."

"I know. She reads me all of your letters, whenever she sees me. How you two send them without your parents knowing, I've never quite figured out."

"What can I say? She's clever."

"Yes, she is…and so are you, by the way."

"I may be, but all my best ideas come from Azula."

"Shut up and take a compliment, Zuko."

"Yes, my lady."

"Oh, stop it…heh…I take it that that man's one of yours?"

"Who, Sergeant Toshio? Nah, it's more like I'm one of his. But it does appear that I need to get back to my boys."

"Duty calls, I suppose."

"Yes…only, now, it's a duty _I _chose, and that makes all the difference."

"You know what? It really does, doesn't it…"

"Did…did you ever find your own destiny?"

"I did, actually, and I'm enjoying every moment of it."

"I'm glad."

"Me, too…it was…it was nice to see you, Zuko."

"And it was nice to see you, too, Mai. Be safe."

"You, too. Good day, Zuko. See you in Gaoling."

"Not if I see you first. Good day, Mai."

They exchanged bows, and then they went their separate ways. The Lady Arinori clambered back into the carriage, slamming the door and shutting the drapes. There she sat in darkness, struggling with her emotions, while her two best friends dabbed their eyes and did the same. Finally, one of them whispered, "That was…probably not wise…"

"Do we care?" Mai asked.

"No," said the third girl, in a voice like that of royalty, "we don't. Not one fucking bit."

And to that, the three best friends, all twenty years of age, agreed wholeheartedly, without having to say a word.

* * *

One of the best things about not locking oneself into one viewpoint or story-telling method, is that it clears things up to experiment and get crazy. Thus, the occasional dialogue-only chapter, which is always fun to write, because I think I do dialogue rather well. I may be wrong (and feel free to correct me), but the wife likes how I do it (_heh_), so nyah.

That's all for today, Faithful Readers. Tomorrow, I'll probably be out and about again, but, if all goes well, you get a few treats. Until then, enjoy your evening, and I hope you liked today's updates!

As for the next chapter, Team Avatar arrives in Gaoling, and Katara hears a name we all know and love for the very first time. Stay tuned!


	26. KATARA VII

KATARA

AFTER THREE DAYS OF UNEVENTFUL FLIGHT, THE AVATAR'S PARTY LANDED IN AN ISOLATED CORNER OF A LARGE ESTATE OUTSIDE OF GAOLING IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT. Landing, Katara had long since decided, was her least favorite part of flying. Taking off itself wasn't particularly enjoyable, either, while flying itself was often rather boring; the newness had worn off rather quickly, and, after a while, she spent most of her flight time trying to nap, playing aimless card games with her brother, or just laying herself on the lip of the saddle and idly watching the world go by. Landing, though? Landing was a frightening experience she had never gotten used to. Suddenly, the pilot (generally Lobsang) would sound a call and flick the reins, then the world would tilt to the side and the ground would come up much too fast and then everything would stop with a sickening suddenness, nevermind that her stomach was still up in the clouds somewhere. No matter what she did, she always ended up feeling nauseous, and when she got off the bison, she was always unsteady on her feet and faintly green in the face.

Yes, indeed, she hated landing, every last bit of it. By the time she started to feel human again, she would find herself hating Lobsang, hating her stupid quest, hating Korra, even hating herself, as her attitude began to grate on her nerves. Long trips by air always put her in a nasty mood, and her brother felt the same way. Just the night before, her and Sokka had stayed up late, bitching in tribal dialect and entertaining a complex fantasy of ditching everything and running screaming into the wilderness. In the end, as it always did, duty to their parents, their tribe, their charge, _the world_, had asserted itself, which was how they found themselves strolling off into the darkness on a massive estate in the middle of nowhere, while a gaggle of servants unloaded their ride and Lobsang and Korra walked a few paces in front of them.

_Well_, she thought as they approached a small party lit by handheld torches, _maybe middle of nowhere is a bit harsh. _They weren't in a particularly important patch of the Earth Kingdom, sure, but the area was well-settled and well-developed. Nearby Gaoling itself was a bit of a trade hub, and apparently had at least forty-thousand people in it. The Bei Fongs themselves, as she had been given to understand, were not just fabulously wealthy but were fairly big wheels in the grand scheme of things, even possessing a decent amount of influence with the Occupation Authorities. And so…yeah…

_Yeah…_

A strong, muscled arm laid itself over her shoulders, and she let herself be pulled into a brotherly side-hug. Sokka gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze before saying, "Hey, sis, how're you doing?"

She sighed and shrugged. _About time you asked, you big lug. _"I dunno…I guess just feeling worn down, you know? Last night's bitch session didn't help nearly as much as I had hoped."

"Bitch sessions typically don't," he pointed out, though his tone sounded wistfully regretful. "Though," he continued, chuckling, "wouldn't it kick ass if they did?"

"Gods," she observed, "this war wouldn't have even _started_, were that true. Everyone would've just sat down, bitched it out, and gone home."

A giggle was beginning to tickle at the back of her throat, but she was determined not to break first; she took great comfort in feeling a slight tremor in her brother's body, telling her that she was not alone. _That's more like it. _"Fuck," he said, "can you just imagine? Crusty old Avatar Roku and grim-looking Fire Lord Sozin just sitting around a whiskey bottle, whining like little girls.

The tickle (_giggle tickle, perhaps?_) was stronger now, and it was becoming hard not to laugh. Somehow, though, she managed, not least because she was enjoying this far too much to let it end now. "Hey, it's funnier if you remember that Sozin was only, like, thirty-something when the War began."

"Whatever." Sokka easily batted the contention away. "The only picture I've seen of him is a dusty old portrait of a dour-looking old crank, and that's the image I prefer."

"I really do think my image is funnier."

"Says you. _I'm_ the funny one here."

_Not lately, but right now, I don't care. _"Oh really? Is that what we're calling you these days?"

"Well, what else would you call me?"

"Besides _Lord Funny One? Sir Snores-a-Lot _seems like a good place to start."

"Oh, bite me."

"Bring it."

During this short conversation, the siblings had shifted from solemn side-hugs to elbow jabbing, and were rapidly on their way to a full-on sibling tussle. Only an annoyed roll of the eyes from the Avatar brought them out of it, and even then, Katara was tempted to just go for it, if only out of spite.

And that was when it all crashed together. Maybe she was just tired, worn out, cranky from all the flying. Maybe she held more anger towards Korra than she allowed herself to admit. Maybe she was just feeling neglected and put-upon. Maybe she remembered more of her nastier dreams than she allowed herself to believe.

And maybe it was all of that. All of her anger, confusion, exhaustion, _everything_, it all came together, and a surge of borderline _loathing_ flashed through her mind. She had an unsettlingly clear image of water-whipping Korra across the field they were in, while her brother cheered her on and exhorted her to _hit harder_.

It scared her, it really did. _Alright, deep breaths._ _Where did __**that**__ come from? _Korra had turned away, completely oblivious, but Lobsang was giving her and Sokka a once-over that left her feeling awkward and vulnerable. _What the hell's gotten into me? _She knew exactly what, but she pushed the North (_along with everything else_) from her mind, diving into the realm of stilted courtesy as they finally reached the waiting torch-lit welcoming party.

_That's enough, Katara. Get a hold of yourself. __**Enough.**_

_**ENOUGH.**_

There were about a half-dozen of them, she noticed as bows were exchanged, hers and her brother's bows, as usual, stiff and awkward. There was a half-circle of armed guards, probably private retainers, five in all, three holding torches and all clasping the hilts of swords. They were arrayed around a very noble-looking man, of average height, but seeming taller due to the proud way he held himself. He was the epitome of Earth Kingdom upper nobility, from his impeccable clothes to the fashionable mustache that sent two locks of hair drooping form his lips to frame his mouth. He even had his hair done up into a perfect queue. His bows were perfect, especially the deep one he made to Korra (which made Korra blush and Sokka roll his eyes), and when the man spoke, it was in Putonghua that Katara had no doubt would have passed muster with the Emperor himself.

_Were there still an Emperor to speak to…_

It was so perfect, in fact, that Katara understood not a word of it. It seemed a far cry from the gutter version she had picked up over the past two years; at best, she got one word in ten. She was about to just focus and try to learn, but then Korra started babbling right back and her anger came surging up from the place she had just shoved it. She knew it was stupid and irrational, and she fought back against it with all her might. It was hard, though; it was just like in the early days, when Korra would tap into her previous lives and start talking in tongues, leaving her guardians in the dust, because she was young and didn't always think things through, and it was just…

_Oh, for fuck's sake, Katara. Settle down. So an Avatar can speak any language their past lives could speak. This isn't new. __**Chill.**_

She looked at Sokka, and Sokka looked at her, and, together, they shrugged their irritation off and wordlessly agreed to smile and look pretty.

Thankfully, though, Lobsang and the noble were more attentive than the fifteen-year-old Avatar was, and suddenly switched into Guangzhou as the noble said, "Oh, my, I'm so sorry, you two don't speak the Imperial Dialect, do you?"

Katara smiled and bowed her head, taking the mental effort it took to speak a different language and using that force to beat her bizarre (_or so she chose to think of it_) surge of anger into grumbling submission. "I'm afraid I don't, my lord, or, at least, not the kind you're speaking."

The man laughed, and when he spoke again, a lot of the refinement had fallen away. "Good, because the Imperial Dialect is never fun to speak. My daughter," he said with a soft smile, "can't stand it, and she's rubbed off on me, I'm afraid." He turned to Lobsang. "Though, really, old friend, you should've mentioned something before I made a fool of myself."

Lobsang bowed his head, first to the man, then to the siblings, but before he could speak, Korra burst out, looking furious with herself in a way that dealt the last blow to Katara's strange fury. "My fault entirely, my lord. I wasn't thinking." She looked towards the siblings out of the corner of her eye, and Katara saw a look of genuine contrition that made her want to smack herself across the face. Smiling back at Korra, she quickly relayed all of this to her brother, before bowing once more to the noble (and prompting her brother to do so as well, with a poke to the arm), and said, "I'm Katara, and this is my brother, Sokka, of the Yuupik Clan, of the Southern Water Tribes."

The man bowed back. "And I, friends, am Lao Bei Fong, Lord of Gaoling, and this," he continued, spreading his arms, "is my home, and you are welcome here."

"It's very nice," she replied, and meant it.

Lord Bei Fong smiled proudly. "Thank you! I work hard for it, and I like to think it shows. Now," here, he turned to Korra, "I'm sure, Lord Avatar, that you're wondering when you get to meet your earthbending teacher."

Korra dipped her head, but not before shooting a nervous glance back at Katara. "I confess, it was on my mind." She put on a brave smile. "I was wondering if maybe it was you, though Lobsang said they were a girl."

Lord Bei Fong laughed. "Oh, no, I'm not to be your _sifu_. Sadly, I do not possess the gift of earthbending. As for your _actual_ instructor, I'm afraid that she likes her beauty sleep, and I learned some time ago not rouse her before she is ready. She has, however, promised to attend breakfast, so you can meet her then."

Lobsang arched an eyebrow. "She's here, then, on the estate?"

The grin that broke across Lord Bei Fong's place could only be described as one of intense, unending _pride._ "Of course! She is, after all, my daughter." He turned to Korra, and answered her unasked question. "Her name is Toph, and she is, I assure you, the greatest earthbender in the world."

_Oh_, Katara thought, translating this all to her brother while Lobsang chuckled and Korra looked vaguely confused, _this, I just __**have**__ to see._

* * *

So, sorry you guys didn't get any updates yesterday. I vaguely remember promised that you'd get something, but I got side-tracked by my Dr. Husband duties, as is wont to happen. The wife has made a full recovery, for the curious, and she even had a good day at work. Plus, I got an obscene amount of work done, so I'm pretty happy! Still have to pick up the kitchen, but hey, can't do everything in one day, right?

_Right?! _

ANYHOO, where was I going with that? Right! _The story! _In case you guys haven't noticed, we are officially on the verge of Toph, which means that everyone's favorite phrase, _Toph scoffed_, is almost upon us! I hope you're as excited as I am!

For those playing the home game, the change that Toph underwent for this story was, _What if she had a supportive family? _She already had a loving one; what if she lucked into one that actually just, well, _got her? _That, oddly enough, was the moment when this story _really _came together. I hope you enjoy the changes.

As for the story...I'm actually really excited. I've got about half of it typed up, and I was struggling with how to turn the other half's notes into a full-fledged story. But then, yesterday, I got in the shower, had one of those _Hot Water Epihanies, _and, _BAM_, it all feel together. I'm now reasonably sure that this will be finished and uploaded within the next three-to-four weeks. Excited? _I know I am._

In the next chapter, Zuko has a dream, and if I don't fanart for it someday, I will be very sad. Stay tuned!


	27. ZUKO IX

ZUKO

NIGHT HAD FALLEN ON THE FOURTH DAY OF THE MARCH, AND IT WAS LIEUTENANT TOKUGAWA'S TURN TO SERVE AS THE EVENING'S DUTY OFFICER. This, however, did not really upset him, or even annoy him. For one thing, being the night duty officer on such a march was not a particularly onerous task. It merely consisted of sitting in a chair by a low fire, where he could be easily found. One even got to nap in between doing rounds.

It didn't hurt that the day had been an uneventful and downright pleasant one. The weather had been marvelous, the perfect autumn mix of warm and cool, complete with a light breeze that kept everyone's spirits up. He was finally beginning to feel and appreciate the fact that he had dodged his cousin's inspection, and the chat with Mai the day before had left him feeling a real warmth towards the world and his fellow man. There was even good news about Private Minamoto, whose feet were healing quickly, and had been cleared to return to duty the day after next. That last piece of information had left him feeling not a small amount of pride; a good officer handled issues before they became problems, and that was exactly what he had done.

He had just completed one of his rounds around the camp when he settled down into the duty officer's chair. All, it seemed, was well. The night was quiet, but not _too_ quiet. All the sentries were awake and at their posts, and everyone seemed to be getting a good night's sleep. What time it was, he couldn't even _begin _to guess, but he supposed it didn't matter. Dawn would come when it came, and for right now, all was quite right with the world.

The dream, when it came, was quite unexpected. As a general rule, Zuko avoided dreams. He had many recurring ones, and most of them were of the unpleasant variety. Zuko had lost count of the number of times the gods had decided to curse him with nightmares about his childhood, or, on really bad days, vivid replays of the day his father burned him.

Tonight, though, it appeared that his subconscious was going to have mercy on him. In the dream, he was sixteen again. His face was whole and his left eye was clear. There was a ball going on, a big courtly to-do, and he was dressed in all his finery, doing his best not to constantly tug at where the high, tight collar pressed against his neck. The ball was in celebration of the day his uncle took Ba Sing Se and ended the War (_or so everyone liked to pretend_), and Zuko was dreadfully bored. He wanted nothing more than to be back at the Academy, back with his friends, far away from all of the pomp and circumstance, but it had been made clear to him that his presence was expected, and so here he was, swirling wine around in the same glass he had been absently toying with for a good hour.

Out on the floor, unmarried young nobles danced, women's skirts swirling to lively music. Zuko wanted to join, but this particular dance was for those who had not been formally betrothed yet, and not a week before, he had been curtly informed that this label no longer applied to him. He still didn't know what to think of this. Earlier, he had danced with the girl (_Mai was her name_), and the girl, barely fourteen, had gazed up at him the entire time with love in her eyes, while he had tried to do his best to smile at someone who was, despite her friendship with his sister, still mostly a stranger.

He was thinking of this when he saw her. There, off to the side, stood his sister, holding a glass of water, talking to Mai, and doing her absolute best to look disinterested in the proceedings down on the dance floor. To all the world, she no doubt looked like she really couldn't be bothered, that she couldn't care less about things as trivial as _dances_. No doubt, had their father bothered to look up from his wine glass, he would have approved of such an attitude.

But then Zuko saw her eyes slide, ever so quickly, ever so slightly, towards the dance floor, and Zuko knew what he had to do. If no boy was brave enough to ask the Princess Azula to dance, then her brother would do it, protocol on who danced with whom when be damned.

In reality, the moment hadn't lasted long. They had thrown themselves with wild abandon into exactly one dance, and before the band could strike up the next tune, their father had stormed out onto the floor in a drunken rage. He had laid into Azula, cursing her for being silly and weak, and no one had said a word, because in the Fire Nation, a father's word is law, and if that father happened to be a prince, it was doubly so. But Zuko hadn't stood for it. Without thinking, he had stepped between his father and his sister and mouthed off, more or less telling Prince Ozai to shove it. For his troubles, he had been knocked to the floor in front of the whole court, who, to their credit, had broken into subdued applause when he immediately pulled himself to his feet, proud and unbroken.

In the dream, though, none of this happens. In the dream, they dance all night, and his sister never stops smiling and laughing. They swirl and they spin and they laugh and they jump and they have more fun than they've ever had in their entire _lives_.

Just like that, though, it does, _only not really._ Zuko blinks, and they're not in the grand ballroom in the Palace anymore. Music continues to play, but there's no band to be seen. He looks down, and his sister is older now, at least twenty, and dressed in a servant's clothes. His own court finery is gone, replaced by a duty uniform. The left half of his world is gone. They're alone on the dance floor; everyone else has gone away. Zuko realizes that he can't remember if they were ever there.

It's around then that he realizes he's not on dance floor. No, he's in a clearing in the woods. The forest stretches off into darkness, but it makes no sound. The music continues to play, and time seems to have stopped. Before him, his sister smiles. She pops up, pecks him on the cheek, then steps away. She turns to Zuko's right and bows, before backing away. Confused, Zuko turns, and it's _her_.

She dressed just as she was, the last time he saw her. Her Earth Kingdom clothes are worn and faded, her hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail, frizzy and uncared for. She wears no makeup, and looks as if she hasn't had a decent night's sleep in years. Despite all of that, Zuko thinks the same thing in the dream as he did the first time he saw her, eighteen months before:

_She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I've ever known._ He even likes her name.

_Katara…_

The music changes. It is soft and slow, like the beat of a heart in the night. He bows to her, and she bows back. She smiles, and he prays to every god there is that his smile is a tenth as nice as hers. They step towards each other. He takes one of her hands, slides the other around her waist, resting it in the small of her back. She gets very close to him, her free arm draped over one of his shoulders. He can feel her breath on his skin. He can picture every hug and curve of her body, remember how it was when his hands stripped away those clothes, feeling every inch, while she climbed on top of him, tearing off his shirt.

They dance. He doesn't know for how long; time seems to have lost all meaning. They never take their eyes off of each other. He doesn't know how he looks, and he doesn't want to know. He looks into those eyes, so beautiful, so blue. There's a sharp gleam to them, a…no, that was when he first met her. Now, it's like that last night, their one true night together, and the gleam was…

It was soft, and warm.

_Like a candle…_

When she speaks, the words do not match the scene. She uses the same words as she did when they parted, on the morning after that night, before she went back to join her brother and the girl they were both pretending was not the Avatar. She looks up at him, and she smiles, and they dance, while she speaks.

"I really like you, you know that, Zuko?"

In reality, he shuffled and blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. This time, they just dance.

"I really like you, too, Katara. In fact," he blundered on, in a burst of confidence he didn't know he had in him, "should our paths ever cross again, I would like to pre-ask you for a date."

She giggled, just as she really did. She blushed, and Zuko still didn't know what to make of that.

"I was just thinking that. Great minds think alike, eh?"

He laughed. "Or regular minds, too."

Another giggle, another turn around the grass.

"Well, Zuko…I think I'll have to hold you to that request."

He smiled. "It's a date, then?"

"It is."

There was a pause. The music stopped. Nothing moved. There was no sound.

Only them.

"Zuko? Would your parents like me?"

He shook his head. "I doubt it. My father would be furious, and my mother would just do her best not to rouse him. Though…you know what? My sister would love you."

She laughed. "Good, because my brother thinks you're pretty cool."

"And that's all that matters?"

"That's all that matters."

There was a voice, rough and scratchy, and the world tilted and swirled and there was fire crackling before him and she was gone. Zuko blinked the sleep away, turned to find Sergeant Toshio looming before him. A sudden sense of panic came over him, and he jumped to his feet, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, fuck…sorry, Sergeant. I was having…a really nice dream."

Toshio chuckled. "I'm glad to hear it, sir. And don't worry, you're only a few minutes behind on the next rounds."

Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods. Well, let's get going, before I doze off again."

Toshio bowed. "Very well, sir." He rose, and there was twinkle in his eyes. "May I ask what dream could possibly put a smile like that on your face, sir?"

Zuko laughed. "You can ask."

Toshio nodded. "Very well, sir."

_Yes_, he thought, _very well indeed._

* * *

I mean what I said at the end of the last author's note: If I don't get some kind of fanart for this scene, I'm going to be..._very, very sad. _I mean it. See this face? It's even more sad than it was the last time I killed Iroh.

Which...I seem to do a lot...huh...

ANYHOO, not much to say about this chapter. On to the next one, yes?

In the next chapter, the Crown Prince makes a grand arrival, and, as usual, sees nothing. Stay tuned!


	28. POMP & CIRCUMSTANCE

POMP &amp; CIRCUMSTANCE

ON THE MORNING OF THE FIFTH DAY OF LIEUTENANT TOKUGAWA'S MARCH TO GAOLING, MANY THINGS HAPPENED. On the Bei Fong estate, the Avatar's company sat down to a late breakfast. The Lady Arinori Mai's company encountered a caravan of assorted local and Fire Nation notables on the road, not far behind the company from the Ninety-Fourth, who were preparing to make their entry into the city. In Miyako, the Fire Nation's capital, Prince Ozai came out of a drunken stupor just long enough to notice that his daughter's story of where she was made no sense. In Kagoshima, on the southern coast, the instigators of a recent draft riot where publicly and brutally executed, with the local _metsuke_ agents sprinkled through the crowd taking no comfort in the fact that the crowds were dead silent. In the North, High King Arnook finally agreed to listen to the rather dangerous opinions of a certain Master Pakku.

And in the base that at that time housed the Ninety-Fourth Infantry Regiment, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince Yoshihito made his appearance, accompanied by the cheers of many and the well wishes of pretty much nobody. Had the Crown Prince bothered to look just a tiny bit below the surface, he would've seen the sullen glares and the rolled eyes. He would've noticed soldiers shifting their feet and officers struggling not to ask their sergeants the time. He would've noticed soldiers tossing away cigarettes and mumbling curses just moments before he came into view. He might even have caught on that his own guards looked almost frightfully bored and indifferent. But, then again, if he _had_ noticed these things, he wouldn't have been who he was. At the end of the day, he was the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, destined to rule – at least in theory- over the world his forefathers had spent nearly a century subduing. Even more than that, he was the spoiled rotten only son of the most powerful, most feared man on the planet, and had never really had to work for a single thing in his entire life.

In some strange, subconscious way, he was probably aware of this. How else to explain his constant worry over and suspicion of a cousin who had succeeded, where he himself had merely existed? But even then, he did not see what was obvious, just as he could not see that the regiment he was inspecting, just like every single one before, blatantly thought him nothing more than a pompous fool.

No, he didn't notice this, or anything else, but the man he knew as Kojima did. Kojima noticed, because that was what Kojima did, even if he did not bother to ride beside the Crown Prince at the head of the column, as His Royal Highness had bidden him. No, Kojima preferred more subtle vantage points, like his current one, buried among a thousand mounted royal guardsmen, their army glittering in the morning sun.

It was, as they say, a full-court show, a veritable three-ring circus. Trumpets blew and drums rumbled. Cannons fired salutes, and firebenders sent balls of flame arching over the path of the Prince. The entire regiment turned out, dressed in full armor, freshly shined and polished, arrayed in perfect geometric formations. The light reflected from so many spear points would no doubt have blinded Kojima, had he bothered to look. He didn't; let his employer marvel at how the regiment sparkled like the sea at sunset. Kojima, meanwhile, had bigger fish to fry.

That's why he looked at the faces, where he saw all the things that the Crown Prince did not.

And he continued to look at the faces, all through the day. Everything else he ignored. When Colonel Kotaro made his big speech, Kojima watched faces. When the fire sages led the assembly in prayers of thanksgiving and acclamation, Kojima watched faces. When the Crown Prince's party began to settle into the area of the base that had been set aside for them, Kojima hung back, and watched faces.

As the day wore on, and the Crown Prince played at the benevolent king, Kojima did not follow. He peeled off, wandering the camp. He watched faces and he listened and he talked. He dropped all signs of polish and refinement. He smoked the harsh cigarettes the common soldiers were issued, and grumbled and swore in the rough dialect of an uneducated soldier from the backwoods of the backwoods. He gave his name as _Kashiwagi_, a peasant from some isolated northern fishing village that, _oh, look at that, how unfortunate_, not a single member of the Ninety-Fourth hailed from. Oh, and he heard, he did, and he agreed. He, for one, couldn't _stand_ the Crown Prince. He was only on this detail as punishment, after daring to best a well-connected sergeant at cards. It could be worse, though; he could be stuck on Ozai's detail, like a friend of his. Talk about a right posh _prick._ _Burned his own son, did you know that? Oh, that son's in this very regiment? Imagine that! What's he like?_

And thus it was that, while the Crown Prince drank fine wine and ate food prepared by his personal cook, making small talk with the regiment's senior officers, every one of whom was trying very hard not to roll their eyes, Kojima sat down at a table with some off-duty sergeants. There, he ate burned rice and drank cheap _sake _that tasted like tank fumes, and learned all the things his employed wanted to know.

As well as a few things the man known as Kojima wanted to know, for reasons he would not care to elaborate on.

* * *

Now, just what the hell is Kojima up to? That man is playing games within games, spinning wheels within wheels, and I don't know about you, but I'd really like a look inside his head. I'm open to theories. I might even give a few hints to the person who gets it right!

*maniacal laughter*

For those playing the home game, the _metsuke _were the secret police of the Tokugawa Shogunate. Fun fact, right there.

In the next chapter, Katara gets woken up from a very nice dream, sits down to breakfast, and we meet our favorite earthbender. Stay tuned!


	29. KATARA VIII

KATARA

THE DREAM WAS STUPID; KATARA KNEW THAT, EVEN WHILE SHE WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF HAVING IT. In it, she was sitting in a candlelit restaurant, across the table from one Lieutenant Tokugawa Zuko. He was dressed in a glittering dress uniform, and she was dressed in a gaudy gown that she would never, in real life, even look at, much less actually _wear_. She was acting demure and coy, and he was acting aggressive and assertive. She wilted and batted her eyes, and Zuko jumped her, right there in the middle of the crowded restaurant. The dream was idiotic, misogynistic, faintly disturbing (_after all, she would never act like that, and it had taken only a week to figure out that Zuko would never act like that, either_), and, gods help her, it was totally turning her on.

It was turning her on so much, in fact, that she was not in the _least_ bit surprised when, right as the dream launched into the _really good part_, Zuko spoke with her brother's voice and she was jerked violently awake. Not surprising, maybe, but definitely irritating, and she felt completely justified in waving a hand through the air as she buried her face in her pillow and growled.

There was a long pause after this, and then she became aware of the sound of water dripping onto the floor. Intrigued, she raised her head just enough so that she could see, out of the corner of her eye, her brother, standing there, looking equal parts resigned and completely soaked.

She didn't mean to laugh. _Honest._

"Yeah, yeah," he said, grabbing a blanket off the bed and dabbing his face, "laugh it up, you brat." His face more or less dry, he began toweling his hair. "Note to Self: From now on, if there is a carafe of water on sister's nightstand, dump out water before waking up sister."

"You think you'd learn," she pointed out, voice muffled by the pillow.

"Heh…you really think I would. Remember that time when we were kids, and you dumped a giant globe of water on my head?"

She didn't feel like answering, so she let the giggle do it for her.

"Yeah, I bet it was just fucking _hysterical_." Rolling his eyes, he dropped the now sodden blanket right on Katara's head. If he intended to motivate her into action, he went about it in the wrong way, at the wrong time, because she didn't move an inch. She buried herself fully in the pillow once more, reveling in the fact that she even _had_ a pillow. He waited a few moments, and sighed. "Alright, this is just silly. Get your ass out of bed; it's breakfast time."

Her (_completely justifiable_, in her opinion) answer to that was to mutter, "_Fuck off_."

"Yeah, I know, the beds are, like, the most comfortable things on the fucking planet, but still, come on."

"_I know right? These things rule._"

"Trust me, I'm with you, but it's time for breakfast."

_"Eat it without me."_

"Look, I get it, you want to go back to your wild and crazy sex dreams, starring one Fire Nation lieutenant with a fucked up face, but we still need to go down and eat with the Bei Fongs."

_"I was __**not**__ having a sex dream...also, his face isn't fucked up, it's handsome..._"

"Tell it to Mom. Seriously, get a move on."

_"__**You**__ get a move on."_

"Ah…you're so mature in the morning."

_"Kiss my ass."_

"You know…I'm beginning to understand why you get so pissy when you have to roll Korra and I out of bed."

"_Gah, I fucking know, right? Now, scram._"

Visibly running out of ideas, Sokka pondered for a moment, then brought out his final shot.

"Look, you really want to leave Korra all by herself down there?"

_Fuck._ It was a cheap shot, and _gods_, did it work. Just like _that_, all of Katara's resistance melted. She sighed, hurling herself upright and peeling the hair off of her face. She blinked a few times, letting the world shift back into focus. She looked up, and watched her brother begin working on fixing his warrior's wolf-tail. She felt a strange, damp sensation seeping through the covers, and with a look of faint distaste, tossed the wet blanket he had dropped on her to the floor.

Finally, her brother's words filtered through the fog of sleep, and her exhaustion fell away. "You…that…that was really good of you to say, Sokka. You pretty much just made my day."

He gave an awkward shrug, looking embarrassed. "Hey, I never hated Korra; I love the tricky little scamp. It's just…" He rolled a hand through the air, as if trying to gather words into his mouth. "Shit, I dunno. Aren't you the one who told me I couldn't just sit around being angry for the rest of my life?"

She felt a little surge of pride. "Aww, you really _do_ listen!"

He scoffed. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Now, hurry up and get yourself presentable; it's time to go."

Breakfast itself was nothing special, simple fare laid out on a plain table set on a veranda overlooking the estate. It was, Katara had to admit as she settled down beside her brother, a marvelous view. The veranda had been perfectly situated so that one could watch the sun rise without being blinded by it. The air was cool and light, and fresh tea steamed from strategically placed pots. Trees and shrubs, all expertly trimmed and maintained, whispered in the breeze, and Katara had the surreal feeling that none of this was real, but rather, a picture in a book. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathed deep the smells and tastes of fall and food and the world. It was an intoxicating mixture, and for a moment, she seriously considered just wandering off.

She opened her eyes, and found herself captivated by a beautiful sight. Not far off in the distance, there was a tree on a hill. The hill was low and shallow, but it stuck up from the surrounding grass. The tree was the perfect size, looking like its leaves would cover the entire hilltop. She wanted nothing more than to curl up at the base of that tree, curl up and read a book and pretend that she was home again.

_Though it's not like they have trees like that, down in the South…_

_ Or many books, for that matter…_

A softly cleared throat shook out of her wool-gathering. She turned to find that the Lord and Lady Bei Fong had joined them. Katara was intrigued to see that the Lord and Lady were as immaculately put together in the morning as they had been in the depths of night. She had met the Lady Bei Fong briefly not long after she met the Lord, just long enough to discover that her name was Jiayi and that she had a kind smile and a warm, friendly voice. Both of them were looking at Katara, and Katara fought down a blush and put on a smile.

"I'm sorry," she said, bowing her head, "I'm afraid I didn't catch that."

The couple chuckled and smiled. "Oh, that's quite alright, my dear," Lao said, as he and his wife set about arranging food on their plates, "I was just observing that you've noticed my grandfather's tree." He pointed his chopsticks off the veranda, in the direction of the very tree Katara had been admiring.

Katara shrugged, her smile reaching her eyes. "Oh, yes, I was, as a matter of fact. I was just…thinking about how it looks like a lovely place to read."

Jiayi's eyes flashed in pleasant surprise. "Oh, you read? Marvelous! I'll have to take you straight to the library after breakfast."

Katara frowned, feeling vaguely put out. Beside her, she was vaguely aware of her brother, showcasing his ghastly table manners while stuffing his face and chatting with Lobsang, who was serenely nibbling on a fruit and puffing on his ever-present pipe. _Where's Korra? _She almost asked Sokka, but decided against it. _She'll come eventually._ Turning back to Lao, she took a moment to shake off the insecurities she always felt when dealing with the well-to-do of the world. "Why is it a surprise that I read? Should I not?" she asked, trying not to feel petulant.

"Read?" Jiayi said. "Of _course_ you should! We had just heard that women weren't allowed to in the Water Tribes."

Katara shrugged. They spoke in Guangzhou, a language she still wasn't all that comfortable with, but somehow, she couldn't help but feel relaxed. Maybe it was the setting, or the food, or the Bei Fongs, or just the fact that she'd slept in a real bed for the first time since they left the North. Whatever it was, she, for the first time in far too long, felt rather decent.

"Well," she admitted, helping herself to the food, "it's not so much _against the law_ as it is _considered kind of weird_, at least, in the South. My grandmother, however, was big on education; it was why left the North, where it actually _is_ forbidden. It was one of the reasons why she made sure my mother and then me could read and write."

"Wonderful!" Lao said, looking genuinely impressed. "My wife and I believe everyone should be educated. It's one of the few things that the Fire Nation gets right."

Jiayi nodded. "Indeed. Say what you will, but the education system they're setting up here is quite remarkable. I truly hope that, once this horrid occupation is over, we'll decide to keep it."

"We'll keep it in Gaoling, if I have anything to say about it," Lao announced, patting the table. He nodded solemnly, before dropping his _Lord Face_ and smiling. "All politics aside, though, my wife is right. You can have any book you want – we even have some in Inuktitut – and spend as much time under that tree as you like."

Katara could not even _begin_ to describe how happy this information made her feel. Trying desperately not to look like a puppy that just got hugged, she let her smile light up her face as she said, "_Really?!"_

Jiayi nodded. "Of course! Our home is your home." Her smile changed then, shifting from _genial _to something Katara could only call _sublime_. "You know, that tree is one of my favorite spots on the estate…"

Beside her, Lao shocked Katara by blushing and mumbling, "Oh, dear, our guest doesn't want to hear about all _that_…"

"Well," Jiayi huffed, a playful glitter in her eye, "_I _want to tell her."

"Tell who what?"

And with that, one of the most remarkable looking girls Katara had ever seen stepped into her life. Later, Katara would be hard pressed to describe just what made the girl stand out. As girls went, she was fairly plain, cute but not pretty. She was very petite, short and slim, wearing plain clothes and with her hair in a lazy bun that left thick bangs hanging over her eyes. Her feet, Katara saw, were bare, and her eyes had this strange, milky, unseeing quality to them. She had a confidant swagger to her walk, and the way she held herself, chin up, shoulders back, was something Katara instantly envied about her.

But as for what was so uniquely remarkable…well…Katara just couldn't put it into words. Even Sokka, normally not one to be at a loss, found words lacking. The best they could ever come up with was to agree that, from that first moment, they liked the girl, and knew there was some different about her.

Meanwhile, the girl had arrived at the table, plopping down rather inelegantly between Lao and Jiayi. Lao smiled, while Jiayi hugged the girl and kissed her on the cheek. The girl responded by rolling her eyes and huffing, even as she smiled and visibly beamed under the attention. Watching, Katara instantly knew that this girl was the rumored daughter, and thus that this petite little thing, sixteen if she was a day, was to be Korra's earthbending teacher.

To her surprise, Katara found this not at all surprising. _What is it about this girl?_

"So," Katara said, "this must be Toph."

Lao beamed and patted his daughter on the head. "Yes, this is my little girl."

"The greatest earthbender in the world," Jiayi added.

"You know," the girl named Toph said, rolling her eyes as she dug into the food, "flattery won't get me to marry that idiot Aunt Daiyu keeps pushing on me."

"That fool?" Jiayi scoffed. "_Please. _Like I'd allow _that_ to happen."

"Now, my dears, _fool_ is a bit harsh," Lao replied, ignoring how his daughter and his wife – who, Katara noted, both looked and acted remarkably alike – rolled their eyes at him in perfect unison. "He's a good boy. Not right for Toph, of course, but still, a good boy."

"He's a fool," Jiayi said, voice making clear that the matter was closed, "and so is my sister for suggesting him."

"Oh," Toph said, giggling, "I can think of _much_ better words for Auntie Daiyu."

Jiayi frowned. "Now, dear, what did I say about swearing?"

"Umm…" Toph made a big show of wracking her brain, before saying, "I believe the exact quote was, _For fuck's sake, Toph, not in front of the gods-damn guests!"_

Jiayi gave a savage nod. "Exactly, and don't you forget it." To this, Toph scoffed (_exactly like her mother_, Katara noted), Lao choked on a sip of water, Lobsang chuckled, and Sokka leaned over and whispered, "The fuck is going on…?"

Katara leaned over and, switching to Inuktitut, muttered back, "Just some family bonding. Apparently, we're not the only ones with a crazed aunt who's always trying to hook us up with her friends' kids."

Sokka smiled. "Good to know." He pondered a moment, then said, "You know, I think I like these people."

"Me, too. I'm think I'm _really_ going to like Toph."

"Heh…right? It's really impressive that she can earthbend, too, seeing as she's blind."

Katara rounded on him, eyes wide. "She's _what?!_"

Sokka gave her a look, which she interpreted as, _Aren't you supposed to be the smart one? _"Yeah, didn't notice? It's in the eyes, the way she never quite looks at you, and how she moves. See how she's always swaying a bit? That's a blind people thing."

"Huh…" Katara nibbled her lip, then nodded. "You're right. I'm an idiot."

Sokka rolled his eyes. "_Please_. We'd be dead if it wasn't for you. Your record's still _way _ahead of mine on the, _Noticing Important Shit Scale_."

"True…still, I should've noticed."

"Eh, I gotta be first _occasionally_. Besides, with the language barrier, what else can I do but stare at shit?"

Before Katara could reply to this excellent point, Toph piped in, saying, "So, unless I miss my guess, you too just figured out I'm blind."

Katara gave an absent nod, unable to not feel a bit flustered. "Well," she said, switching back to Guangzhou, "my brother realized it right away. I was a bit slow on the uptake." She reached over, patted Sokka on the arm. "This is my older brother, Sokka, by the way," Sokka smiled and waved, mouth full of food, "and I'm Katara."

Toph shrugged. "Yeah, I know. I did my reading."

Katara giggled. "You often make jokes like that?"

Lao sighed, shaking his head. "_All the damn time…"_

Toph smiled. "It's what I do. Still, my initial question remains unanswered: What were you two going to tell Katara?"

"They were telling me about that tree over there, and why your mother loves it so much." Katara almost finished this with a gesture, before feeling awkward and letting her hand flop onto the table.

"The one on the hill?" Toph asked.

Katara nodded, and wondered why she was doing so. She couldn't help but wonder if she would be able to have this whole conversation while making faces and go relatively unnoticed. Something humming the back of her mind told her that this would not be a good idea. "I believe so, yes."

Immediately, Toph broke into a childlike grin. "Oh, that's the _Reading Tree_. That's just where my parents used to take me and read to me when I was a kid."

Katara bit down on an urge to go _aww_. "That's very sweet."

Toph scoffed. "Like a fruit tart."

Jiayi frowned. "Now, Toph, you loved those days."

Toph groaned. "Come on, _Mom_, you're going to wreck my reputation!"

Lao laughed. "That's what parents do, dear."

Toph stuck her tongue out at her father. "Yeah, well, you know-"

She never got to finish this statement, because at that moment, the Avatar herself arrived. She staggered into the room, still rubbing sleep from her eyes, giving a series of awkward, half-awake bows as she slumped down between Katara and Sokka. The siblings exchanged a look, and, to Katara's joy, Sokka didn't immediately move, or even try to shimmy away. Feeling rather pleased with how the morning was unfolding, Katara wrapped her arms around Korra, ruffling the girl's barely tamed bed-head. "Feeling alright, sweetheart?" she said, switching back to Inuktitut.

It was a sign of how unawake Korra was in that she didn't react to being called _sweetheart_. Instead, she sighed, rolling her head onto Katara's shoulder. "Oh, I'm just…um…_wow_. Those beds, guys."

"Tell me about it," Sokka said, making Katara feel even better about the day.

Not even awake enough to notice that Sokka had spoken to her, Korra gave Katara a quick hug and sluggishly pulled herself away. She brushed some hair from her face, and, doing her best to smile, said, in Guangzhou, "My lord, my lady, you guys have, like, the _best_ beds on planet."

Said Lord and Lady smiled and bowed their heads, and Lao said, "Why thank you, Lord Avatar."

"I'm Toph, the best fucking earthbender in the world," said his daughter, as Katara, with some puzzlement, watched the girl press a foot firmly against the ground, nodding at something. "I don't have to call you _Lord Avatar _every gods-damn time I speak to you, right?"

Jiayi groaned, while Korra shook her head. "Honestly, I'd rather you didn't. Korra is just fine."

"For now," Toph began, rather enigmatically, Katara felt, "but we'll have to get you a nickname post-fu-"

It was the second time Toph was interrupted by someone entering the room, and this time, there would be no recovery. The doors behind the Bei Fongs had opened, and a man wearing the Bei Fong symbol of the white flying boar emblazoned across his chest and a sword on his hip slipped into the room. He went straight to Lao, leaning down and beginning to whisper in a way that looked rather frantic. Lao listened, his face falling and turning into a very unpromising frown. A whispered conversation followed, with a variety of looks exchanged between husband and wife and a concerned look on Toph's face. Conversation finished, the servant made his exit, and Lao, nodding at his family, stood. He cleared his throat, looking very forlorn, before setting his shoulders and saying, "I'm very sorry, my friends, but I'm afraid that a bit of a problem has arisen."

Lobsang frowned. "How big of a problem?"

Sokka leaned over Korra's head, whispering, "_The fuck is going on? Something just went wrong, didn't it?_" Katara silenced him with a glare, wrapping a protective arm around Korra, who suddenly looked rather pale.

Lao, for his part, exchanged another round of looks with his wife, sighed, and said, "Well…"

That was the day Katara discovered that Earth Kingdom nobility were rather fond of understatement.

* * *

So, a couple things about this chapter. First, the thing about Toph swaying: This is an actual thing that blind and severely visually impaired people do. It has something to do (if I remember correctly; my brother has ocular albinism, which means that there's no pigment in the cones of his eyes, and thus his eyes never really focus, so he exhibits a lot of behaviors similar to blind people) with that a lot of our sense of balance is derived from sight, and when you can't see, you sway. It's kind of like how, if you drink to much, you start to sway. Nowadays, they often train visually impaired people to not to that, but before they had schools and such, they didn't. Watch old Ray Charles interviews to see what I mean.

The other thing...wasn't this fun? I thought it was fun. A quick comment on Katara's dream: We all have dreams we're rather ashamed of when we wake up. That's the problem with fantasies; they tend to be rather embarrassing. Everyone here has had some kind of dream that, when asked what you were dreaming about, you muttered something along the lines of, "Oh, nothing, I can't remember..." And then your shifty eyes were shifty...

In the next chapter, Zuko arrives in Gaoling, and scans the rooftops, looking for a girl. Stay tuned!


	30. ZUKO X

ZUKO

THEY MADE THEIR ENTRANCE INTO GAOLING RIGHT ON SCHEDULE, ON THE AFTERNOON OF THE FIFTH DAY OUT FROM THE REGIMENT. By common, unspoken assent, all had agreed to enter the city in style. A few miles out, the Captain ordered a halt, so the company could get a breather and freshen up. Zuko ran around alongside his fellow officers, dressing the ranks and issuing orders, telling his boys to dust themselves off and have one last cigarette. There was a final officer's briefing with the Captain, some last minute shouting, then helmets were donned, the trumpets rang, the drums sounded the beat, and on the left foot, they marched.

They approached the city from the southwest, following a winding road between scattered trees and fields ready for the harvest. The closer they got, the more people Zuko saw. The peasants in the fields generally contented themselves with a lazy glance before ignoring them, if they even bothered to notice anything at all. Closer to the city, though, reactions varied. Some people lined the road in silence, just watching. Here and there, Zuko noticed scattered knots of Fire Nation citizens, cheering and clapping, though Zuko could not help but feel that the cheers were less, _Look at our glorious army_, and more_, Thank the Gods it's not a press gang. _Little kids started running up and down the column, excited to see the show, while prostitutes came to the windows of the one of the brotherls at the edge of town to wave and catcall.

For all the excitement, it was hard to ignore the thunderous indifference that rolled off most the population like a massive ocean wave. Most just looked, saw the uniforms and the flag, turned, and walked away.

Zuko didn't like that, not one bit. Hatred, he understood, could deal with. He knew what to do with that. After all, he had been hated by his own father most of his life; being hated by total strangers who actually had a reason to despise him was easy to handle by comparison. But indifference? Indifference made him feel too much like he was being watched by thousands-upon-thousands of his younger self. He looked into the empty eyes and blank faces, and saw himself, staring down at his food, trying to disappear into thin air, angry that he couldn't. So uncomfortable did he feel, that he almost smiled when the occasional civilian, seizing the chance to let the world know that the Occupation would never be truly secure, spit on the ground or made obscene gestures.

Zuko looked to the Captain the first time this happened, and was gratified to see that his commanding officer was content to stick to his final orders and ignore such displays. They were, after all, there mostly to show the flag, not round up dissidents.

_That's the metsuke's job, anyways…_

At the city gates (which were purely ceremonial, since Gaoling, like every place in the former Earth Kingdom – barring Fire Nation colonies – was forbidden walls), the Captain ordered a brief pause. The company halted, and the Captain dismounted, sending his komodo-rhino to the rear. Master Sergeant Kitajima bellowed a command, and, as one, the boys reversed their _yaris_, pointing the blades to the ground. A tangible wave of relief went through the gathered civilians; by marching in, spear-points down, Zuko's company had signaled that theirs was a peaceful (_as much as was possible_) errand. Even the angry observers seemed to unwind, as if the knowledge that the scarlet-clad soldiers were not there for them caused them to conclude that these foreigners just weren't worth taunting.

Things unwound smoothly from there. Another command was bellowed, and the company continued their procession into the city, passing down the main boulevard, watched by old men and women on porches, barked at by dogs, and accompanied by screaming, laughing children. Fathers and brothers and mothers hid their daughters, and young Fire Nation boys gazed up with pride and envy that made Zuko want to leap out of the line and smack them upside the heads.

There was, out of all of this, one set of eyes that really caught Zuko's attention. He saw them for only an instant, and then they were gone. The eyes were very old, set in the wrinkled, tired face of a very old Fire Nation man. The Occupation lay light on the ground in Gaoling; the district had never been fought over, and the local bigwigs came to terms quickly after Ba Sing Se fell. The Occupation was still there, though, in the form of tax collectors and sundry administrators and merchants and the like. The eyes, Zuko assumed, probably belonged to someone's elderly grandfather. Zuko couldn't help but feel that, these days, those eyes were kindly, warm, and belonged to a man who played games with his grandchildren.

And yet, Zuko saw those eyes, saw the coldness within them, the hard, brittle steel, and instantly, he knew them. They were the eyes of a soldier, a soldier who saw too much, too soon. They were eyes he worried about having, the eyes he used to see staring back at him after one of his father's beatings. They were eyes that haunted him in his sleep, eyes he was terrified he would have for the rest of his life.

And then the company began to turn a corner, Zuko blinked, and the eyes were gone. He never saw them again.

Gaoling, as rural cities go, wasn't terribly exceptional, its primary claim to fame being its convenient location as a confluence of trade routes. The resulting trade made the Bei Fong family rich and brought the Earth Rumble tournament to town, but, for all of that, the main square, the company's destination, reflected the city's status as…well…_quiet and rural_. There were the usual shops, the city hall, the inevitable temple, along with a well-maintained war memorial. Beyond that, the only things that made it stand out were the decorations for the tournament and the large party of well-dressed dignitaries assembled before the city hall. The company filed into the square, slotting into formation, standing at rigid attention. As Zuko ran a critical gaze over his platoon, he felt a pang of jealousy towards Tsurukawa. The support platoon had already peeled off from the march, waiting outside the city for orders, leaving the combat platoons standing in the sun, watching the show, feeling very bored.

The show itself, as these things went, was fairly routine. Two men peeled themselves off from the crowd of dignitaries, walking up to meet the Captain. One was dressed in reds, obviously the local Fire Nation administrator. He was very fat and had shifty, beady little eyes and an ugly little goatee; Zuko disliked him instantly. The man was ill-served by having to stand next to his local counterpart, a tall, straight-backed, fit man who, judging from the pendant around his neck (which held the image of a white winged boar) was probably the Lord Bei Fong.

_One of these days_, Zuko thought, trying not to roll his eyes, _I'm going to see the last of these gods-damn little bullshit ceremonies, I swear to Agni._

The two men met the Captain. Bows and introductions were exchanged. The company was officially welcomed, and given the liberty of the city. All bowed their heads while a priest raised his hands and prayed for peace and good will. Lord Bei Fong made a speech, the Captain made a speech, the Fire Nation administrator made a speech, Zuko tuned out, found himself watching a butterfly flutter through the air, dancing circles around the company standard.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, a gong sounded. Zuko jumped a bit, and swallowed a laugh. The show, it seemed, was over.

The civilians dispersed, but the soldiers (_curse our luck_) remained. The Captain was engaged in an animated conversation with the Lord Bei Fong, while Zuko exchanged helpless looks with Toru, who stood with his company to the immediate right. Time passed, not too much, but enough for the boys to start muttering and fidgeting. Finally, the conversation ended, and the Captain walked over, waving Zuko and his fellow officers over to him. All four fell out of line, meeting the Captain halfway, lining up and snapping to attention before they bowed. The Captain bowed back, then smiled his weird little smile.

"Gentlemen."

"Sir," they chorused.

He sighed and cast a quick glance over to where the Lord Bei Fong was talking to what Zuko's court education picked out as personal retainers. "It appears," the Captain began, "that, though we have not been expected, we have been prepared for. Back during the War, there used to be an Imperial Army garrison, and it was billeted on the Bei Fong estate. Lord Bei Fong, with admirable foresight, has maintained these facilities, and I am assured that they are fully functional."

At the end of the line, Ryu bowed, and the Captain nodded at him. "Sir, what are the facilities, if I might ask?"

Zuko bowed his own head. "And just how far from the city is the estate, sir?"

"Excellent questions," intoned the Captain, nodding. "The estate itself is only a couple of miles from here, and very well-placed for our purposes. From what Lord Bei Fong has told me, they were built for a full battalion, so, for once, we will have more than enough room. I've even been informed that there is a building set aside just for officers, which means that each of you, gentlemen, will be getting your own room while we're here." He pauses, while Zuko and his comrades turn to each other, smiling and thumping each other on the back. Ryu even let loose with a, "Fucking sweet, can we stay?"

Zuko and his more experienced comrades did not encourage, of course, but they glared in a way that made their agreement clear.

"However," the Captain said, drawing their attention back to him, "I'm afraid it's not _all_ good news."

Zuko let loose a mental groan of epic proportions, but kept his face calm.

The Captain paused, and then sighed. At this, Zuko felt _much_ better. Had it been something serious, like partisan activity or the like, the man would have been _much_ more chipper. As it was, he looked a bit awkward, clearing his throat and clearly searching for words, before, finally and mercifully, dropping the bomb:

"Gentlemen, do you remember how I ordered you all to pack your dress uniforms?"

Zuko, like the other officers, answered with a confused look, even as his own heart sank to his boots. _Maybe if I __**fake**__ a guerilla attack…_

"Well," the Captain continued, looking uncomfortable, "it seems that I made a good call on that. It is traditional, it seems, for the Lord Bei Fong to host a big ball the night before the tournament starts. It's at least part of the reason so many _lords and ladies_ are flooding in. This ball, as it so happens, will be held the night after next, and I'm afraid that an invitation has been extended to myself and my officers, an invitation I have accepted." Before anyone could protest, the Captain threw up his hands in surrender. "I know, I know, we came out here to avoid things like that. Still, this mission is supposedly about _showing the flag_ and _making friends_. Besides, the…_ahem_…the _Right Honorable District Viceroy_," all snickered at the thinly veiled sarcasm, clearly meant for the aforementioned fat Fire Nation official, "has made clear that he expects us there. So…there it is."

To Zuko's immediate right, Toru bowed his head. "Sir?"

"Yes, Watanabe?"

"Well…um…do we _all_ need to be there?"

The Captain finally smiled again. "Actually, no. One of you will need to stay with Lieutenant Tsurukawa to mind the store. Lieutenants Mishima and Hideki will have to work that out for themselves."

Toru's eyes went wide, and Zuko was sure that he didn't look much better. "Umm…sir?"

The Captain shot Zuko a _look_. "Sorry, Tokugawa, but my two most senior officers go by default. Plus, you _were_ a prince; I'd appreciate your expertise."

Zuko felt a grimace crease his face that he did nothing to fight. "All due respect, sir, but as for _expertise_, well…I'm in exile for a reason."

"Fair enough," he said, "but you're still going, and that's an order." Zuko exchanged looks with Toru, and they both bowed their heads, while the Captain turned to Ryu and Yukawa. "So, which of you is going?"

Ryu looks to Yukawa with hope, but Yukawa just stared back. The battle of wills is over before it begins, and Ryu is left turning back to the Captain and bowing his head in defeat. "I'll go, sir." He looks up, and his usual mischievous smile returns. "As a lowly merchant's son, I do believe it is my duty to provide the fashionable amount of low class crust that any upper class bash is not complete without."

The Captain chuckles, and pats Ryu on the shoulder. "That's the spirit." He turns, to find that the Lord Bei Fong has returned, retainers in tow. "Well, here are our guides. The Lord Bei Fong and his retainers will lead us to our new home. Get the men settled in, and report to me for a briefing right after dinner. Understood?"

"_Sir, yes, sir!"_

"Excellent. Dismissed."

The usual bows are exchanged, all is done and over with, and Zuko couldn't help but feel that he had just been punished for some egregious sin. The only way he could make himself feel better about his fate was to engage in a complex, outrageous fantasy about how Katara might be at the ball.

_As if. Since when have I been that lucky?_

* * *

I'm a big fan of build-up, and I'm definitely building up towards something here. What could that possibly be? Maybe a Zutara big ballroom dance number? _Nah_. I'm not that derivative...

_Except I totally am..._

Just a real quick question: Are there any non-Zutarans who read my stories? I mean, I know that I have a problem when it comes to this ship, but, with this story at least, I really do think there's enough going on outside of the Zutara that non-Zutarans (or even _anti_-Zutarans) have a reason to hang around. I really would like to know about that. Does the story stand up without the ship? I hope so, I really do.

And for the record, I don't hate Kataangers; Kataang just makes me feel vaguely uncomfortable. But moving on...

That's it for today, I'm afraid. It's time for a beer and pjs and snuggle time with the wife. Let me know what you think, and I _promise_, I'll be back tomorrow!

In the next chapter, Katara watches the parade, and gets to know our favorite earthbender. Stay tuned!


	31. KATARA IX

KATARA

ON A ROOF OVERLOOKING THE SQUARE, THREE YOUNG PEOPLE WATCHED. Or, rather, Katara and her brother watched, while their companion, young Toph, listened to their running commentary.

The walk into town had been quite educational. Katara hadn't particularly wanted to go, having seen more than enough Fire Nation soldiers to last a lifetime, and Sokka agreed. Toph, though, was all abuzz to _see_ (such as she could) the largest group of soldiers to come through town since the War. Lao had reluctantly agreed, after making Toph promise not to get into any trouble and describing to Katara and Sokka a rooftop they could watch from.

Korra hadn't wanted to go at all, and demonstrated this by eagerly agreeing to stay and do some kind of meditation practice with Lobsang.

They were just entering the town when the educational part happened. Up ahead, Lao hurried, fiddling with his clothes and rattling off orders to various retainers and servants. Katara and her brother hung back, with Sokka on one side and Toph on the other, still, Katara couldn't help but notice, completely barefoot. They had quite the conversation going, Sokka babbling to Katara in Inuktitut and Katara hurriedly translating things back and forth. Finally, Toph seemed to have had enough, and said, in passable Inuktitut, "Alright, I'm going to go ahead and make this _way_ fucking easier."

Katara stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide. "How in the _hell_ do you speak Inuktitut?"

Toph shrugged. "Meh, I had a Northern Water Tribe nanny when I was a kid, and besides, Dad does lots of trading with both North and South. When you don't have anything to look at, it's surprisingly easy to pick shit up. Now, come on; we're falling behind." Without a second's hesitation, she strode on, and after exchanging bewildered looks, Katara and her brother hurried on after her, while Toph bellowed, "And now it's time for Sokka to teach me some dirty jokes!"

"Wouldn't your parents be annoyed at that?" Sokka pointed out.

Toph scoffed. "Like I care?"

By the time they reached their vantage point, atop a shop over-looking the main square, Toph had completely exhausted Sokka's repertoire of obscene jokes, forcing Sokka to come up with more on the spot.

That was how they waited for the show to begin. They sat in a row, Toph in the middle, Sokka and Katara to either side, dangling their feet off the ledge. Katara looked out upon the world, while her brother slipped Toph forbidden cigarettes. Katara thought about giving him a tongue-lashing for that, but decided she couldn't be bothered, and instead, made him light a few for her.

So far, there was very little to see. The square was a beehive of official-looking men running about, servants dashing hither and yon, everyone looking worried and a bit haggard. After a bit, it all got very boring, which was when Toph started in on the questions.

And boy, could she ask _questions_. They were truly endless. It was then, for the first time since meeting her, that Katara realized that Toph, for all of her poise, confidence, and maturity, was still a teenager, and one who had never really been far from home at that. The torrent of questions came heavy and fast, uttered in a tone of breathless excitement that only a teenager could have. She found every story, every detail, no matter how mundane, cause for awestruck glee, and before long, the siblings felt tired and battered by the onslaught.

They couldn't really get mad, though. Sure, the girl, away from her parents, was gruff, obscene, and plain-spoken to the point of rudeness, but she was also sincere and genuine and, Katara felt, kind of sweet, in a bizarre, unfathomable kind of way. If anything, the experience made Katara feel envious and a little sad. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, she was not talking to Toph Bei Fong but, rather, herself, two years younger. She saw a happier, more optimistic Katara, full of wonder, looking to the young Avatar with a heart full of hope. Then she opened her eyes, and reality came crashing down upon her. She recalled her eyes as they were now, worn and tired and unable to fully hide the sickness of the heart that lingered deep down within.

_What happened to that girl? _Katara missed that girl, her old self, and a part of her wanted to have that girl back. It was a pipedream, though; it was simply not to be. She knew the answer of what happened, and she could not avoid it, no matter how much she wanted to.

_The quest happened…_

_ The North happened…_

_ I spent two years doing what I had to do, what needed to be done, and now the girl I was is lost…_

A cold chill crawled up her spine, and she could feel her face turn blank and pale. Toph babbled on, oblivious, but her brother noticed. Sokka, without missing a bet in his discussion, reached over Toph's head and squeezed Katara's shoulder. Katara looked to him, saw the same sadness in his eyes, saw the warm smile on his face, and started to feel a little better. They shared a moment, there on that roof, as only siblings really can. They looked into each other's eyes and spoke, loud and clear, without saying a word.

_Hey, I'm here. We're in this together. __**We got this.**_

The inner chill slipped away, and Katara felt like herself again.

They were on a very appropriate topic when the sound of drums and trumpets and tramping feet announced that the _special guests_ were upon them. Namely, they were on the subject of the Fire Nation military, and the siblings' lack of concern.

"So," Toph was saying, "you guys _have_ run into Fire Nation troops before?"

The siblings scoffed in unison. "_Met them?_" Sokka replied. "Fuck, we've _fought them_."

Toph's eyes went wide. "No shit?"

Sokka nodded, puffing out his chest in a move that elicited a burst of laughter from his sister. "I shit you not!"

"_Cool_," Toph muttered, sounding rather impressed. "Then, I gotta ask…why don't you guys seem worried?"

"Well," Sokka replied, "it's hard to explain."

"Good thing I'm so fucking smart, then."

Sokka nodded. "Point. Katara? I got the last lengthy explanation; it's your damn turn."

Katara sighed. "Oh, _alright_." She turned away from the square, looking down at Toph. "Basically, the average rank and file just aren't that bad, and as a rule, aren't too interested in us. Most of them are conscripts, who just want to survive their service and go home, and trying to tangle with the Avatar isn't exactly conducive to that goal."

"Don't get us wrong," Sokka added, "there _are_ dangers, and some nasty pieces of work out there. Like The Raiders-"

"The death squads?" Toph asked, voice low.

The siblings gave a mutual solemn nod. "Yeah," Sokka said, "the death squads, the elite commandos. But, yeah, the Raiders are always on the lookout, and then there's that prick of a Crown Prince and his hand-picked attack dogs. We always have to watch out for them."

"Which," Katara said, "is actually to our advantage. The Crown Prince is, from what we've seen, just _crazy_ jealous and paranoid, especially about his little mission, to the point that even the most ambitious officer in the regular military will go out of their way to avoid us, on the off chance that they might capture us and earn the Crown Prince's wrath."

Toph nodded, chewing her lip. "Makes sense…though, I gotta ask, how jealous is this asshole?"

The siblings frowned. "Well," Katara said, "we actually got caught once."

Toph's mouth dropped open. "You guys got your asses fucking _busted?"_

"Hey," Sokka muttered, "don't look at us, it wasn't _our_ fault."

"Oh?" Toph asked, eyebrow popped.

Katara swatted her brother on the arm. "Another long story. One at a time, if you don't mind."

Toph waved a hand through the air. "By all means, then…"

"Right." Katara tossed a spent cigarette off the roof. "Basically, we got caught, and barely got away, thanks to the Blue Spirit. Who, by the way, I _still_ say was a girl."

Sokka rolled his eyes. "_Please_. That was _totally_ a dude."

"Come again?" Toph asked, looking lost.

Katara waved the question aside. "Nevermind. Like I said, another time. Point is, we got away. Apparently, the Crown Prince, when he realized what had happened, had the entire unit court-martialed, flogged and sent to guard penal colony, except for the officers, who were forced to commit _seppuku._"

"Wait," Toph said, "_seppuku? _That's a real thing? I honestly thought it was just crazy bullshit, along the lines of, _Can you believe those Fire Nation fuckwads? Crazy._"

The siblings could only nod sadly. "Afraid so," Sokka said. "The Fire Nation has a…how do I put this…_strange_ thing about honor."

"I dunno," Katara said. "Zuko explained it to me, and I think it's more that they think about it differently than we do. Point is, that was the punishment for _failure_ in regards to the Avatar; success, by which the Royal Family would be embarrassed, wouldn't be much better."

Toph nodded. "Huh…you know, that all makes a weird, really fucked up kind of sense." She paused, then tilted her head in the direction of the drums. "Kind of makes your heart go out to the guys, especially if most of them don't really want to be here."

Katara sighed. "Yeah…but while we're on the subject, do me a favor and don't bring any of this up to Korra."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because Korra…well…it just wouldn't be something she'd want to talk about these days. And even now, she has this way of seeing the world in black-and-white, and too much positive talk about the Fire Nation has a tendency to send her into a tizzy."

"Even now?" Sokka asked.

Katara shrugged. "I'd rather not chance it."

"I dunno," Toph said, giggling, "I'm imagining the Avatar herself throwing a hissy fit, and I have to admit, it's an amusing picture."

Katara turned on the girl. "Wait…how can you imagine, like…_anything."_

"That's just what I was going to ask," Sokka said.

Toph shrugged. "It's hard to explain. Generally, I can sense things even normal people can't. Plus, I always try to create an image of someone from their voice. For example, from your voice, I know you're very pretty, and from Sokka's voice, I know he's a gangly dweeb."

Sokka scoffed. "Hey, I'll have you know that I'm a very _attractive_ gangly dweeb, thank you very much."

"Tall and skinny, too," Katara added. "All knees and elbows; it's quite adorkable."

"Aww, thank you, sis."

"Don't mention it."

"Don't worry; I won't."

Toph burst into laughter. "You guys are cool, you know that? I like you."

For reasons Katara could not quite explain, this statement filled her with a glowing sense of pride. Somehow, she knew that this girl did not hand out praise easily, and that, for reasons she couldn't begin to fathom, this praise was, as a rule, worth having. She was about to thank Toph when her brother tapped her on the arm, pointed, and said, "Here they come."

The group leaned over, straining to see (_or, at least, Katara and Sokka did_). The siblings began their running commentary, taking great pleasure in described the scene in minute detail. Toph seemed to get quite the kick out of it all; a silly, excited grin never quite left her face.

The siblings ended up getting excited, too, right when they got a good view of the company standard, snapping in the breeze at the head of the column. They recognized it instantly, and Katara felt not the least bit of shame in letting out a very un-adult-like squeal (_though she kept it in her head, because she had pride_). A faint warmth burst forth in her stomach, sliding ever so smoothly up her throat and out into her limbs. Her fingers tingled, and for the first time since she could remember, she was intrigued about what the morrow might bring. She began feverishly scanning the ranks, seeking out the officers with their long _katanas_, squinting as she tried to peer into the faces behind the helmets, looking for the young man she had only known for a week, but couldn't help but feel she knew better than anyone else in his life.

Later, as the festivities ended and the soldiers began to file out, Sokka turned to her and said, "Did you see him?"

She bit her lip and huffed. "I don't think so. I mean…_maybe_, but who says this is his company, or that he's even still alive? Nevermind the fact that they all look the same with their helmets on."

Toph piped up. "They do?"

Sokka shrugged. "Pretty much. It's the uniforms and the helmets; gives a weird, kind of blank-slate effect."

"Ah…so, care to spill on what's got Sugar Queen here's heart thumping away like crazy?"

Katara frowned. "_Sugar Queen?_"

"Hey," Toph said, "it's a work in progress." She elbowed Sokka. "So, _spill_."

Sokka chuckled. "Basically, this company's from the Ninety-Fourth Infantry Regiment, the same unit as this really cool guy we met awhile back. Zuko's his name; good guy, all in all."

Toph nodded, giving the siblings a very perceptive look. "Fair enough. So, you met a Fire Nation officer who's not a dick, and that you'd totally chill with. What's Katara's excuse?"

Katara blushed, while Sokka threw her a wink and said, "Oh, it's just that my sister has a lady boner for the guy."

"Kiss my ass, Sokka," was Katara's reply, while Toph giggled and said, "Oh, this I just _have _to hear."

Katara laughed. "Sorry, dear. I love you, but I'm _not_ drunk enough for _that _story."

Toph scoffed. "You? _Drunk? _I refuse to believe it."

Katara popped an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I dunno. I guess I just can't quite picture it."

"You can't picture _anything_."

"Point…still…" An intriguing glint filled the girl's eyes, and Katara began to feel rather suspicious. "You know," she began, "there _is_ a big shindig at my place day after tomorrow…and I'm sure Dad will invite some of those officers…"

Sokka perked right up. "Party? Big? We're there."

Katara rolled her eyes. "And how would we manage that? Our faces aren't the most welcome in world, especially if Fire Nation bigwigs will be there."

Toph's grin turned downright mischievous. "Well, I could always ask Dad to turn it into a masquerade ball…"

The siblings exchanged looks, and then leaned in, saying, in perfect unison, "Go on…"

Oddly enough, the person Katara had been looking for had, in fact, seen her, and she had seen him, at exactly the same moment. She didn't know it; she gave the officer a long, hard look, but his helmet was on, and he was too far away for her to be able to make out the scar behind the steel. From below, Zuko had been scanning the rooftops, the randomly glimpsed air bison on his mind. He had seen the trio on the roof, feet dangling over the edge, and thought of Katara, and how, if she was to watch something like this, she would watch it like that. Alas, the sun was at her back, and all he saw was a silhouette, thick hair billowing in the wind.

* * *

Good afternoon, Faithful Readers! How's everyone doing today? It is cold as _balls _in North Texas today, and I don't know about you guys, but I'm about ready for it to be over. Seriously, the hell? I'm pretty much done with this weather. I mean, summer isn't easy, but with winter...I don't know how you cold-weather people do it. It really sucks because it's _just_ cold enough to require, maybe, something warmer than my coat, but, on the other hand, this is Texas, and these days never happen often enough or stick around long enough to justify the expense. A decent coat costs a bundle, after all, and why throw down that much cash for something I'll only use, like, a dozen times a year?

But I digress. Point is, _it's cold_. And windy, too.

So, back to the story. Fun Fact: I was originally going to _not _have Toph speak Inuktitut, but then I got really sick of having to write around in circles, so, yeah, she speaks the lingo. It works, I think.

The bit about the average Fire Nation ranker's opinion of the Avatar is, I think, not much of a stretch. I hope I've made clear that the never-ending Occupation is really starting to grind the Fire Nation's gears, and the average soldier really just wants to do their service and go home. If you knew how cutthroat your government was, and were a poorly paid draftee, and knew that the penalty for failure was death, and possibly the penalty for success, would _you _go up against the Avatar? Yeah, neither would I. In my mind, Team Avatar tries to avoid the Fire Nation troops, and those soldiers are pretty okay with that.

Sure, that's not long term thinking on anyone's part, but hey, what do you expect? Draftee armies tend to be very, very young.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Korra tries to meditate, and gets a very special visitor. Stay tuned!


	32. KORRA I

KORRA

THEY SAT ON A SIMPLE MAT IN A SIMPLE ROOM, SHE AT ONE END, LOBSANG AT THE OTHER. Between them, incense candles burned. The windows were closed, and it was very dark. Light filtered faintly through slats and holes. Lobsang preferred to meditate outside, or at least with the windows open. He encouraged this in Korra, told her that to let the natural beauty of the world seep into her very being was the best way to achieve the inner peace she so desperately needed. Normally, she would have agreed with him. Today, though, the world was simply not a peaceful place. The wind had brought with it the sound of drums and trumpets and orders barked in a language she couldn't help but feel was ugly, harsh, and cruel. She heard, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she leaped up and slammed the windows shut and threw the bolts into place.

Lobsang had not even blinked an eye. He never did; that was simply not his way. He smiled that serene smile of his and waited calmly for her to sit back down and began talking her through the calming exercises that she knew by heart.

And now he was gone. His eyes were closed and from the depths of his throat came the strange chanting the Air Nomads were known for. It was calm and relaxing and Korra loved the sound, the way the notes lodged deep in her awareness and carried her away, the way it all pricked memories buried deep in her past lives. She never felt as close to what it meant to be the Avatar as she did when Lobsang began to chant. Sometimes, she joined him.

Today, though, she did not. She could not. She couldn't even close her eyes.

Meditation, she had found, was sort of like falling asleep while staying fully awake. It was like dreaming without really closing your eyes. That's why she hated it now, that's why she avoided it. In her dreams, at least, she still felt like she had a little control. She could run and hide from the darkness, keep it at bay with things that made her smile.

But meditation was all about letting go, shoving your conscious mind aside and diving deep into the currents that lay beneath. Once, before the spring, she had not been afraid of that heaving, roiling unknown. Everything would seem so clear there. She would see her duty and her destiny, revel in the fact that she, a poor herder's daughter from a minor tribe in the South, was the Avatar. It was upon her that world would turn, her destiny to restore balance to four shattered nations, spread out her hands and bring to heel the realm of fire whose manifest evil she had been raised on tales of. That was her. She was Korra.

_The Avatar._

But that wasn't what lay there now. If she closed her eyes and let herself float away, stripped of her protections, her armor, it would all come rushing back. Her heart would fall into her feet and once more she would feel the righteous rage of a teenager, unable to see where her actions might lead. She would feel the glory and the power that had been in her hands.

_She would hear the voice of a god, thrumming in her veins, right before it shredded her soul…_

No, she would not go there. She would stay here, in the real world, the world she understood. She would let voice of the kind monk before her carry her away, away from a reality that had proved far more complicated than she ever dreamed, away from the beautiful young woman she had hurt, away from the way that woman's brother couldn't quite look her in the eye…

_Away from how even the moon now looked down and knew her shame…_

When it happened, she would never know. She would never even know if it actually _did_ happen, of it was all just a dream. All she knew was that, one moment, Lobsang was there, chanting, a perennial smile curling at the corners of his mouth, and then, like _that_, he was gone. In his place, there was just a boy, barely twelve-or-thirteen years old, with a shaved head. He wore a monk's robes and he looked very sweet and he was smiling at her, waiting very patiently, for what she didn't know.

_She couldn't help but feel that he had been waiting a long time…_

"Hi," he said, and his smile grew wider. His voice was light and airy, like a child's, and his pale grey eyes sparkled with a childlike glee. She didn't really feel like smiling back, but she couldn't help it.

"Hello," she said, trying not to look as confused as she felt. Chewing on her lip, she searched carefully for the right words to say. "Um…I don't mean to be rude, but…what just happened? And…who are you?"

He laughed. It was an infectious laugh, like chimes chattering in the wind. "Well," he said, still in that slightly breathless voice, "as for what happened…well…we'll get to that. As for who I am, that's easy: I'm Aang."

To say that floored her would be an understatement. She blinked, her mouth opened, closed, opened again, and then she blinked some more. "Um…come again?"

He frowned, looking genuinely disappointed. "I'm Aang. You _have_ heard of me, haven't you? I mean, I really hope you have…"

The flash of irritation that surged through her snapped her right out of her confusion. Crossing her arms, she huffed. "Of _course_ I've heard of you, you twit. You're obviously an Air Nomad and your name is Aang. That means you're the Avatar who came before me."

The smile came back in full force. The kid looked absurdly proud. "Yup! That's me! Avatar Aang!" He gave a little bow. "At your service, Avatar Korra."

That did not appease her, not one bit. Shaking her head, she said, "Yeah, but see, that doesn't answer…like…_anything_. Where are we? Is this a dream? Where did Lobsang go? Why are you a kid, when you died as an old man who'd spent half-a-century in a coma? Why the hell are we speaking in my tribal dialect?"

He laughed. "Well, as for the last question, it's _your_ head. As for all the others…" He looked around, and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Honestly, I've never been clear on how this all works. As far as I know, nobody's ever really cared to ask, and as a general rule, the whole _having to deal with one's past lives butting in on your day _is every Avatar's least favorite part of…well…_being Avatar_, so they typically don't talk about it."

"But that doesn't answer my question of why you're here as a kid."

"Meh. From what I understand, one's past lives tend to appear in the state they feel most comfortable in. I never really stopped thinking of myself as anything other than a carefree kid; that's when I was last even remotely happy. So, I appear to you like…well…_this._"

She popped an eyebrow. "So…wait…Roku _chooses_ to look like that?"

"Heh…and you're surprised? Dude's a bit of an old crank. First time I met him, know what I thought?"

"What?"

"_If Sozin basically started this whole horror show just to spite this guy, he might have been on to something._"

She giggled. It felt _good_, so good that an idea occurred to her. "Heh…this is why you're here, isn't it?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "I dunno…to make me feel better. You realized that I needed a pep talk, and decided to appear to me before Kyoshi or Roku could pop in and ruin my day."

Any good feelings she was developing disappeared as she watched his reaction. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes grew very old, and for a moment, the boy was gone. Before her sat a beaten old man, wracked with guilt and pain, body and spirit destroyed by the reckless use of a power he had used without learning how to go about it. The old man sighed, and then the boy was back, though if anything, he just looked even more sad.

_Is this what awaits me? Is this my future? Is this what becomes of every Avatar?_

_**Should I even be the Avatar?**_

Once, she would not have even considered the possibility that such questions _existed_.

_What happened?_

"No," he said, and his voice sounded very old, "that's not why I came to see you. Honestly, I shouldn't even be here. There are…rules about these things, as you'll one day discover."

"If it's against the rules, why are you here?"

"Because you need me, and besides," and here, he looked up at her, and the smile was back, if a little more sly and mischievous, "I never was very good when it came to rules."

She smiled back. "That, Aang, is something of an understatement, and we both know it."

He chuckled. "True…still, time is of the essence, and as much as I want to just sit and chat, because you're pretty cool, there's something I came here to say. But first…" His expression grew grave, and when he looked her in the eye, she felt a chill seep into her bones. "What do you know about what happened to me? In brief."

She wanted to look away, but set her jaw and straightened her spine and looked right back. She didn't have to search far for his story; she would never forget the tears in Lobsang's eyes when he told her.

"You were told you were the Avatar in the worst way possible. You freaked, and you ran away, and got caught in a storm. By the time you came back, the War had begun, and Sozin had already destroyed the Western and Southern Air Temples and invaded the Earth Kingdom. You cast aside your status as Avatar, and instead took leadership of your people. You saved them from extinction, but barely, and in the process, used your Avatar powers without ever getting proper instruction."

"Which wasn't really possible," he cut in. "The whole world was in a state of chaos; anyone who might have been able to teach me was either dead, fled, fighting in the war, or on the other side."

"But that's not the point, is it?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, it's not. There's a reason why the training is important. It destroyed me, destroyed my mind and my spirit and my body."

"And you spent the last fifty years of your life in a coma."

He sighed. "Exactly. As an Avatar, I failed. _Miserably._"

"But you saved your people." That was the part Korra had always latched on to. Her favorite painting in all the world was one she had seen early in her quest, at the still-shattered remains of the Southern Air Temple. It depicted the assault on the Northern Air Temple, specifically the moment when the boy named Aang, then a young man, had led a veritable _fleet_ of airbenders on air bisons in a desperate charge to drive a massive Fire Nation army back and buy time for his people to flee. Anytime she thought of that painting, she would smile, and her heart would be filled with a tingly warmth that would send her head spinning off into dreams of glory, of heroism…

_Of saving the world…_

_ Which might be what he's trying to tell me…_

"You're trying to teach me something important, aren't you?"

He nodded, mouth pressed into a thin smile. "Now, what gave you that idea?"

She rolled her eyes. "Were you always this evasive and sarcastic?"

"Oddly enough, no. In fact, I was _never_ this way, when I was alive. I was a lot more…well…a lot more like you. Open, frank, out in the open, not much in the way of guile…"

"Which has worked out _so well_ for me."

"And that's exactly what I'm getting at." He paused, took a deep breath, let it out. He set his shoulders, and his face was grim and serious. When he spoke, he didn't sound like a little boy anymore.

"Now, Korra, what I'm about to tell you is very important. No other Avatar will willingly say what I'm about to say, though all of us know it, whether we admit it to ourselves or not. When the others swoop in, especially Roku and Kyoshi and Yangchen, but even some of those who don't show up very often, like Kuruk, I want you to remember what I'm going to tell you, and keep it close to your heart. Do you understand?"

She nodded, because she didn't know what else to do.

He smiled. "Good. Now…the thing you need to know about me, is that, when all of…_all of what happened_, well, _happened to me_, I was only a kid. I was faced with two very bad options, and no middle way. I could either abandon my people to their fate, and hurl myself into training to be the Avatar, or I could turn my back on being the Avatar, and use what little power I had access to, to save my people. I don't whether I made the right decision, but I made the only decision I was capable of, and if I had to do it over, I'd make the same decision again, without a second's thought. To be honest, I always felt the gods chose poorly, when they gave this gift to me. In my opinion, they've done _much_ better this time around."

She couldn't help but smile. "You really think so…?"

He laughed. "I _know so_. I never wanted to be the Avatar; deep down, even after all that's happened, you still do. But here's the thing: No one can tell you what that actually _means_. Only _you_ can decide what it means to be the Avatar. Not Roku, not Kyoshi, _not even me_. Everything you've done so far, you've done because you're _you_, the good and the bad. Take what you've learned, and decide what kind of Avatar you're going to be."

"But…but I've made so many mistakes…"

"We all do. The list of mistakes is endless. Even Yangchen, for all of her selflessness, made mistakes, as she'll be the first to tell you." She had started to open her mouth, but he stopped her with a raised hand. "Now, I know what question you're going to ask. The best advice I can give you is: _Don't ask it_. Not until you're really prepared to consider the consequences of it. _Trust me_. Just consider what I've said, alright?"

She popped an eyebrow. "And just what the hell _have_ you said?"

"Heh…good question. Just…think about it, okay? Decide what you think an Avatar should be, and make that happen. It's, quite literally, the best you can do. Oh, and one more thing: Do me a big favor, and try to have some fun, okay?"

She sighed. "I'm not sure Katara would let me…"

He laughed. "Yeah, she can be a bit of a _mom_, can't she? But, from what I can tell, she cares about you, and loves you to pieces, and not only would fully agree with me, but has given you that very piece of advice." _Which does nothing to reassure me that this isn't some bizarre daydream_, she thought. "At least, that's what your memories tell me."

"Yeah…that's weird."

"Hey, it's a two-way street."

"So, I can call on you?"

He nodded. "You can, only…try not to tell Roku you're doing it. He's not my biggest fan, and he'll probably throw a hissy-fit."

She giggled. "I dunno…sounds like it'd be entertaining to see."

He smiled, bright and clear. "See? _That's the ticket._ Work hard, have some fun, and save the world."

She looked away. "No pressure, eh?"

"I never said it'd be _easy_. Just…don't let one mistake destroy you. Oh, and when you look back up, do me a favor and tell Lobsang that he needs a mustache. He looks a bit too much like a wrinkly old man without at least _some_ hair on his head."

She looked up. "What has that got…to…"

But he was gone. In his place was Lobsang, slowly opening his eyes, the room a thick fog of incense. Lobsang blinked, cleared his throat, and said, "You were saying something, my dear?"

_Aang's right; you __**do **__need a mustache_. But she didn't say that. After all, she couldn't even _begin_ to figure out how she'd go about explaining. So, instead, she smiled, and said, "Has anyone ever told you that you have a bit of a funny-looking face?"

There was a long pause, and then the man burst into hysterical laughter. She laughed along with him, and before it was all over, they were both wiping tears from their eyes.

"Oh, that's just _splendid_," he said, gasping for breath. "The sense of humor returns! I was starting to fear that we had lost it for the duration!"

She shrugged, and smiled. "I don't know if it's back…but…it's somewhere in there." She leapt to her feet, running her hands over her clothes. "What say we ditch this and go do some airbending?"

He rose, unfolding himself and pausing to crack his back. "I couldn't agree more. I never did like meditation."

Somehow, that surprised her not one bit.

* * *

When I decided that I was going to insert Korra into this story, rather than Aang, I felt a twinge of guilt. As I've said before, I have nothing against Aang; he's a good kid who always did his best, and really, that's what we all want to be said about ourselves, at the end of the day. So, I had to figure out a roll for him, something that would make up for excluding him from the main plot. The first thing that came to mind was an image of Aang, on an air bison, leading an armada of air bison into battle. Once I had that, it all came together.

I even managed to outsmart myself, because this allows me to really look into some aspects of being Avatar that I've always wanted to explore. For example, why is the training so important? That should be obvious: Bending four elements and acting as a conduit to the Spirit World would make the Avatar the possessor of an _outrageous_ amount of power and energy, _dangerous_, even. I mean, just think about it. To try to wield that power without proper training...well...grab a power line without proper gloves, and see how that goes. And running through Avatar is a power line that contains the very soul of an entire _planet. _God only knows what that kind of power can do, if you're trained to use it.

And there's more, too, much more, that I'll get into later. For now, before anyone asks: What are the rules that Aang is breaking? We'll get into that later. Also, what question is Korra going to ask? Well, it's the question that goes to the heart of this story:

_Why an Avatar?_

I'll let you think on that, as I move on to the next chapter, in which Colonel Kotaro, back at the good ole' Ninety-Fourth, opens his big mouth. Stay tuned!


	33. THE COLONEL I

THE COLONEL

COLONEL KOTARO RYUJI, EVEN AFTER MORE THAN FOUR YEARS, STILL VIVIDLY REMEMBERED THE DAY HE MET THE FORMER PRINCE NAMED ZUKO. It had been in a permanent camp outside Omashu, a kind of staging area where units were formed and trained and sent off to wherever they would go. Kotaro was only a month or so into his command, having recently been given the soon-to-be-reformed Ninety-Fourth Infantry as a sort of punishment. The Ninety-Fourth, perhaps owing to its unit number, was universally regarded as unlucky; indeed, it had just returned from the volatile northeast completely shattered, the victim of incompetent command and a vicious ambush. Kotaro, though, was determined to turn the regiment's reputation around, and thus was casting a wide net for officers – both commissioned and noncommissioned – who he felt might help him. Thus, when the letter from a princess told him about the two young officers, barely eighteen, fresh from the Academy, who were coming his way, he had been equal parts disappointed and intrigued.

These emotions were soon replaced by a deep confusion the second the two young nobles were ushered into his office. Watanabe was not the source of this confusion; there was nothing terribly unexpected about him, after all. Sure, the boy was obviously smart, determined, and incredibly personable, but at the end of the day, Watanabe Toru was just one more minor noble's spare son out to rise above his unremarkable birth by way of an army career. No, it was the other boy that befuddled him, indeed, downright startled him.

Maybe it was the bandages that were still wrapped around his face, or the way that he seemed to hate his refined, unspeakably posh, upper crust accent. Maybe it was the way that he seemed born to wear a uniform, or how a white hot determination blazed from his every pore. Maybe it was the letter laying open on Kotato's desk, from Master Piandao at the Academy, attesting to how this prince had earned the top spot in his graduating class in the teeth of his family's opposition. It might even have been how this fresh-faced princeling's remaining eye already had a worn sadness in it, of a kind that could put the most hardened campaigner to shame.

Or maybe it was just that Colonel Kotaro Ryuji, a man who had made a career out of hating every royal he met, had found himself liking Lieutenant Tokugawa Zuko from the moment he laid eyes on the boy. The years since had only solidified and enhanced this impression, until the day came when Kotaro could, without a moment's hesitation, look Crown Prince Yoshihito right in the eye and say, with every fiber of his being behind the words, "Lieutenant Tokugawa is, without a doubt, one of the finest officers I have ever had the pleasure to command."

Silence fell upon the assembly like a thunderclap. There were about a dozen men kneeling around the table, the Colonel and the Crown Prince and a collection of senior officers from the regiment and the cronies that rumor said _His Highness_ never went anywhere without. The food had been cleared away, and the Crown Prince and his _friends_ (none of whom, from what the Colonel could see, had ever done a day's honest service in their _lives_) had spent the entire evening quaffing copious amounts of _sake_. Kotaro had partaken sparingly, and his officers had followed his example. Kotaro had felt distinctly uncomfortable the entire night, the high, stiff collar of his dress uniform biting into his neck. His discomfort had flowed into his officers, especially when the Crown Prince had launched into a rambling, slurring diatribe about the uselessness of his younger cousin. Several of the officers were visibly upset and angered; the boy, Kotaro knew, was, in spite of his sometimes prickly demeanor, popular and well-liked, and the Crown Prince's derision was not going down very well. Only Kotaro's inner steel had held his men in check, while the Crown Prince ranted and Kotaro kept his mind on the Lieutenant's earnest plea to respect his quest for anonymity.

But in the end, the Crown Prince had gone too far. Egged on by his cronies, he had downed a shot of _sake_, noisily smacked his lips in a way that would've gotten any one of Kotaro's officers ferociously disciplined, had they dared, and asked, in all drunken seriousness, "So, what's it really like having my useless waste-of-space cousin in your regiment? Terrible, right? Little bastard never could do anything right. I mean it, we're all friends here; you won't be punished for what you really think. His Majesty, _my father_," and here, the Crown Prince looked around the room, as if to make sure everyone noticed the connection, "agrees with me completely. Hell, the idiot's own _father_ agrees with me. So, tell the truth, what do you think about my useless fucking cousin?"

In retrospect, it had been the reference to Prince Ozai that had probably done it. The regimental officers had visibly bristled; Ozai's name was dirt in the Ninety-Fourth. Kotaro, struggling with his infamous temper and his equally reputable tongue, had taken a deep breath, let it out, and said, "Honestly, Your Highness?"

The Crown Prince was pouring more _sake_ as he nodded. "Absolutely!"

And then Kotaro had looked the man-child right in the eye and said what he had said. No doubt, had he known where those words would ultimately lead, he would've kept his mouth shut.

_Or perhaps, just maybe, he would've spoken up sooner…_

* * *

Oh, Colonel Kotaro, I love you, but you just had to open your big mouth, didn't you? *shakes head*

By the way, for the record, Fire Lord Iroh doesn't think Zuko's useless at all. Yoshihito's just a prick.

In the next chapter, we witness the immediate ramifications of Colonel Kotaro's blunder. Stay tuned!


	34. THE LACKEY I

THE LACKEY

THE CROWN PRINCE WAS IN A TOWERING, DRUNKEN RAGE, BUT THE MAN HE KNEW AS KOJIMA WAS UNPERTURBED. Kojima didn't even bother to watch; instead, he got out a little pick and began cleaning his nails, a rancid common soldier's cigarette dangling from his lips while he waited. On and on the Crown Prince raged, hurling things across the room, kicking over furniture, stomping his feet on the ground. The royal's cronies and guards and servants had long since fled; no doubt they were cowering not far away, just far enough to not be noticed, but close enough to come quickly if called. The lackey, though, did not move. Even when a vase crashed against the wall not ten inches from his head, splattering him with water, Kojima did not flinch. No, he just kept smoking his cheap cigarette and cleaning his nails. One could not even really say that the man was _waiting_; it was more as if he was merely _existing_, a still-life, a statue, fixed in a moment of time, until the moment came to spring to life.

Finally, the Crown Prince paused just long enough to grab a half-drunk bottle of _sake_ from one of the few remaining upright tables and take a long, gulping swig of it. Only then did Kojima really move, shifting his half-closed eyes to his employer's face, watching to see if the overgrown child had finally tired of its tantrum. It did, indeed, seem that the moment had come. It was as if the act of drinking had distracted the prince from his rage. He gasped for air, wiped his lips, then took another slug. Then, with an air of resignation, the prince hurled himself to the floor, grasping the bottle like a piece of wood floating in the middle of the ocean. Kojima watched, let a few seconds tick by, then put his little pick away, brushed some wrinkles out of his trousers, clasped his hands in his lap, and smiled.

The Crown Prince frowned. As loathe as he was to admit it, he hated when Kojima smiled. There was something…well…_slimy and monstrous _about the act. It never failed to send a chill up his spine, a chill as sharp as a knife fresh from the whetstone. Uncomfortable with the sensation, Yoshihito gave himself a shake and fixed his gaze to a point just to the side of Kojima's head as he growled, in a petulant voice, "_What?!_"

Kojima shifted his seat, tossing his cigarette to the floor and grinding it out with his boot. He then took up a new position, one arm draped over the back of his chair, the other propped on the chair's arm to support his face. He shrugged, eyes still half-closed. "Nothing, Your Highness. Just wondering if you were ready for your humble servant's report."

Yoshihito's eyes narrowed. Kojima was speaking in pitch-perfect royal dialect, his tone and words utterly at odds with the pose of the man's body and the expression on the man's face. It did not, however, occur to him that he was being mocked; he only felt a vague sense of confusion. "Well," he slurred, covering up the moment with another swig from the bottle, "by all means, make your report."

Kojima sighed, shifting once more to pull out another cigarette and light it with a match struck on his boot. "And where would my lord care for me to begin?"

Yoshihito scoffed, an act that somehow turned into a hiccup. "With my fool of a cousin, of course."

If Kojima struggled with an urge to roll his eyes, he would be the only person who would ever know. "Need I remind Your Highness that your cousin is not the reason we are here?"

Yoshihito blinked, obviously lost. "What do you mean?"

Kojima looked the man right in the eye, an action the Crown Prince found himself unable to reciprocate. "The Avatar, of course."

Yoshihito attempted another scoff, with similar results, batting the point away. "Whatever, the Avatar will keep. They're not my best bet to get back into the Palace, and besides, I never have understood my father's obsession with the little _girl_."

"Ours is not to question _why_ when it comes to His Majesty," Kojima pointed out.

Yoshihito just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, _I'm_ the royal you need to worry about, and I desire to know about my cousin."

Kojima nodded, pursing his lips. "Very well. It appears, as I suspected, that both of your cousins are in communication with each other."

Yoshihito frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It appears," Kojima began, in a disinterested tone, "that the Princess Azula and her brother have been able to write letters to each other all through the past four years. The letters have slowed of late, but that's not of much importance, in my opinion."

"But…my father and hers forbade such contact."

"Nonetheless, it has occurred."

Yoshihito nodded. "I see…he must be plotting with her."

Kojima shook his head. "It does not appear so. The regiment's _Kempei_ officer was very clear that the letters were quite innocent and mundane."

Yoshihito furrowed his brows, not following. "So…we have the letters?"

Kojima shook his head once more. "We do not. It is not unusual in combat units for soldiers to bribe the _Kempei_ officers to not open their letters. They still open random ones, just to check, but as I said, the officer in question found nothing worth reporting, and took the bribe."

Rage flooded back into the Crown Prince's face. "You mean…my cousin has been bribing an officer of the military police?"

Kojima shrugged. "As I said, it's a common practice, especially in combat units, where the _Kempei_ officers often fight alongside their charges."

Yoshihito huffed, disappointed. "Oh…still, just goes to show that my grandfather should _never_ have agreed to keep the _metsuke_ out of the military."

"Need I remind you," Kojima said, raising a finger, "that that was done to end a major mutiny that could easily have spread to the entire military, and thus toppled the government?"

Yoshihito waved the point away. "Whatever. When _I _take my throne, I can assure you that the military will be brought to heel."

Kojima nodded. "Indeed."

Yoshihito shot him a look, before returning his attention elsewhere. "Anyways…if the letters are innocent, then why even bring them up?"

Kojima sighed. "Because they prove my point: _There is more to the Princess Azula than meets the eye_. If you absolutely insist on focusing your attention on one of your cousins, then I believe that you should shift your attention to her, and away from Prince Zuko."

Yoshihito did not take this well. He drained the bottle, hurling it against the wall by Kojima's head. When he did not get the desired reaction – or any reaction at all – he huffed and muttered and swore. Tantrum done, he said, voice thick with anger and _sake_, "Once again, _enough with the Avatar_ and _enough with fucking __**Azula**_. It's _Zuko_ I want to know about."

Kojima shrugged. "Very well. In that case, your cousin is, by universal opinion, an excellent, hard-working, and courageous officer, popular with his men as well as with his fellow officers. Oh," he added, as if it was an afterthought, "and as for his current whereabouts, he is with his company on a little PR errand in Gaoling, no doubt to prevent him and you from being in the same place at the same time."

The Crown Prince nodded, taking this all in. Suddenly, he was moving, lurching to his feet and heading for the liquor cabinet. There, he extracted a fresh bottle of _sake_, uncorking it and taking a long drink. Thus fortified, he rounded on Kojima, eyes blazing. "What do you think he's up to?"

"His duty, no doubt. He's worked very hard to avoid notice by the Royal Family, and seems content to keep it that way."

"Maybe…or at least until he _strikes!_" This statement was accompanied by an attempt at a dramatic gesture that looked almost comic.

Kojima just shook his head, something he did a lot with the Crown Prince. "That, I doubt, just as I doubt that he is the cousin to be concerned with, if you are, indeed, intent on worrying about one of your cousins."

Yoshihito's face twisted in rage. "I don't care what you think! _I don't fucking pay you to fucking think!"_

Kojima took this in stride, looking not the least bit ruffled. "Very well, Your Highness. What, pray tell, do you wish me to do?"

The Crown Prince's face broke into a venomous grin. "I want you to make sure that my cousin never returns from Gaoling alive. I want you to make sure that this threat to my succession is finally snuffed out."

Kojima popped an eyebrow. "And how should I do that? Need I remind my lord of what happened when your grandfather decided to purge a relative who was popular with the military?"

Yoshihito rolled his eyes. "Fuck my grandfather; I'm _me_. I know how to handle the military. You just do what you're told."

There followed a long pause, before Kojima said, voice very quiet, "Is my lord sure?"

The Crown Prince nodded savagely, eyes ablaze with righteous fury and visions of how his father would finally have no choice but to call him back. "Oh, yes."

With that, there was nothing more to do. Thus, the man known as Kojima rose, bowed, and said, "As my lord commands."

* * *

So, yeah, _that happened. _It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Zuko goes out of his way to stay out of the limelight, to just be _one more officer_, but it was a lost cause from the beginning, wasn't it? It was _never _going to work. I wonder how he'll feel when he finds that out...

Ah, but that would be a _spoiler_, wouldn't it? *maniacal laughter*

By the way, can we take a moment to acknowledge how interesting of a character Kojima is? Seriously, I love this guy. Well, I mean, I loathe the very sight of him, sure, but he's just kind of...I dunno..._interesting, _you know? Yoshihito's pretty intriguing, too. That guy's fucked in the head, let me tell you.

Also, for those playing the home game: The _Kempei _were the Imperial Japanese military police during the World War II period; over time, as the military took more and more control over society, they became the Gestapo of Imperial Japan. That's not what's happening here. Back in the day, Fire Lord Azulon, when he came to the throne, decided to shore up his succession and purge some people. One of them was very popular with the military, which also happened to be growing rather tired of the War that was grinding on and on. Long story short, there was a major mutiny, and some nervous days for Azulon, and when it was crushed, Azulon agreed to keep the secret police out of the military, which would form its own secret police, the _Kempei_. I'm telling you this now, because I'm not sure if it'll ever fit into the narrative in a coherent form. It's also just some nice little background, you know?

_Anyways..._

Quick fun fact: My great-uncle Ralph, who fought in World War II, was the one who told me about soldiers slipping the officer tasked with reading and censoring soldiers' letters a little something so that they'd either not open them, or not be too cruel with the black-tipped pen. It was, apparently, quite common, especially in combat units.

Well, that's all for today! The wife is _finally _feeling like a human being again, and she's demanding that we go out and do something once she gets home. Thus, I need to do my chores and get ready. I hope you enjoyed the updates, and can I just mention how much fun I think we're having? Because we're having a lot of it!

In the next chapter, Toph is Toph, and Katara learns that there are no secrets from the Melon Lord. Stay tuned!


	35. TOPH I

TOPH

"SO, WHO ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT, AND IS SHE PRETTY?"

The night before, at dinner, Korra, in an apparently inquisitive mood, had asked Toph Bei Fong how it was that she could _see_. It had apparently been a topic of muted discussion among the three Southerners through much of the evening. Toph was only sixteen-years-old, but even given her limited time on the planet, she had already grown exhausted with trying to explain how she experienced the world. So, she had fallen back on the rather caustic manner that life and heritage had gifted her with, shrugging and saying, _I just see what I fucking see, and that's all there is to it_. _I can see that Sokka here is bored, that Katara's mind is wandering, that young Dingxiang in the corner can't stop tapping his finger against the wall, and that you, my dear_, and here, she paused to throw in a wink, _are just cute as hell. _That brought shocked reactions from their guests, a chuckle from the servant Dingxiang, and synchronized groans from her parents.

_All in all, a bit of a hat-trick, really, _she felt. Not to mention that the brief (_if slightly confused_) flutter in Korra's chest was quite encouraging, in Toph's never humble opinion.

But there was a truth hidden behind the flirtation and the obscenities. How _could_ she explain it? She honestly didn't know; every time she tried, she was left fumbling for words, feeling just in general like an idiot, and she was _damned_ if she was _ever_ going to feel like that. And the way she felt people look at her when she explained…though, she shouldn't blame them, she supposed. She _did _blame them, naturally, but still, _she shouldn't._

Take the young woman sitting in the grass before her, for example. She knew that she was pretty, from the tremors that ran through young men's bodies when she walked by. She knew that the girl was tired and worn and stretched thin, that she was worried and mentally exhausted, that there were a great many things on her mind. Her heart always sounded like a rock rattling around an empty pail. Around her brother and her charge, she was always a least a little on guard, her body tensed, her movements fidgety. Even when she sounded happy, her body carried a cloud of sadness, seeping from every pore.

But just now, for a few moments, all of that had faded away. The signals changed, the heart sped up, the body relaxed. Toph swore that she could feel the ghost of a smile somewhere on the young woman's face. Yes, Katara of the Southern Water Tribes was thinking of something that made her rather happy, and as much confidence as Toph had in the earthbending she had been practicing for the past hour, she knew it damn sure wasn't that.

_Probably a boy_, she thought, _though, _she continued, feeling hopeful, _maybe, just maybe…_

For the record, if one had cared to point out the six-year age difference, one would've fully deserved whatever happened next.

At first, there was no reaction. The past hour had been like that. When Toph had headed off for practice, Katara, curious, had asked to come along. Then, for a solid hour, she paid absolutely no attention. In fact, Toph was pretty sure that she stopped even _pretending_ to pay attention within five minutes. _Probably staring at the sky_, she had thought, _though only the gods know what's so fucking fascinating about __**that**_. Toph Bei Fong had lived for sixteen years without seeing the sky, and was doing just fine. The hell did people look at it so much for? _Fucking bullshit._

Even after Toph decided it was time for a water break, taking a big gulp and striding over to the small hill from which Katara was ostensibly watching, there had been no change. And now, if the girl had noticed Toph's presence, there was no sign that Toph could see.

_And I can see all the gods-damn signs, thank you very much._

Intrigued (_must be some fucking fantasy_), Toph had bent a pebble-sized lump of dirt from the ground and pinged it off Katara's head. _That_ got her attention, though the signs said it was likely to be negative attention. There were some odd signals, like the girl was rubbing her head, but Toph ignored those, leaning forward to say, "Got your attention now, Sugar Queen?"

If Katara wasn't frowning, Toph would eat her sweat-soaked hairband. "_Yes_, as a matter of fact, _you do_, since it's so important to you. What did you want?"

"No big deal," Toph said, pausing to take another gulp of water, "it's just that I asked you a question and all. It's polite to respond when people talk to you, you know."

That brought a scoff, which raised Toph's opinion of the young woman even higher. "And the hell would _you_ know of politeness?"

_Yeah, Sugar Queen was a bit of inspired fucking __**genius**_. "Quite a lot, actually. A young lady's education is quite comprehensive in that regard."

"I see it didn't stick."

"Oh, it stuck; I know every one of the _100 Rules of Etiquette_, thank you very much. I ignore them as a point of honor, though, because, you know, _Blind People Perks_, but they're in there."

"Good to know. So, what did you want?"

"What I wanted," Toph said, plopping herself down but keeping her bare feet firmly planted in the grass, "was to know who you were thinking of, and if she was pretty."

Toph strained her senses, and was not disappointed. Katara's heart did a rather nauseating lurch, and if this _blushing_ thing that people kept telling Toph about wasn't just a weird joke, she was willing to bet money that it happened to Katara's face. A rustle came to Toph's ears, as if Katara was nervously playing with her hair, and Toph had to resist the joint urges to laugh and gag.

"Well…um…for one thing…um…why would I be thinking about a _she?_"

_Damn._ "Just being hopeful. So, we're talking about a dude, I take it?"

That lurch again. _Gag me with a fucking __**spoon.**_ "Well…uh…_maybe_. Just…well…a friend, a good _friend_ of mine, that I met, you know…nothing special…just…he's been on my mind a lot lately…no big deal."

"Uh huh." _Bullshit. _"So, you were totally daydreaming about that Fire Nation officer your brother keeps teasing you about, right?"

The sounds Katara made at that were utterly fascinating. Like anyone who lacked something, Toph, in weaker moments, did find herself wishing she could see, even if only for a moment. But then someone would splutter like Katara was currently spluttering, and Toph would reaffirm her opinion that the sounds were _much_ more fascinating.

"Well…uh…_maybe_…" The sensations shifted. It was like Katara had reached in and grabbed her own heart, willing it to behave itself. The language of her body changed, as if she was shaking herself and setting her shoulders. "Not that it's any business of yours."

"Oh, it's not in the least bit my business, but if you think that's going to stop me from prying, you've got another thing coming, missy."

"You are…you're quite something, you know that? I honestly can't get a handle on you."

Toph scoffed, which was, by far, her favorite form of expression, short of earthbending. "Save yourself some trouble, Sugar Queen, and don't even fucking bother. I'm _Toph_, in case you didn't notice, and nobody's going to get a fucking handle on _me_."

"Heh…not even your parents?"

"_Please_. They know better than anyone not to bother trying."

The signals changed to confused. _These people are all over the fucking map, I swear. _"But…surely they're training you to inherit the estate."

"Nope! Ever since my dad's brother had a son, they've stopped worrying about it."

"Your father has a brother?"

"A few; my grandfather liked his concubines. But Zhang Shao, who was born at the same time as Dad and raised with him, is the only one who's worth a damn. When his son, Guangli, comes of age, Dad's going to make the kid his heir."

The confused signals continued. "And you don't mind?"

Toph felt that this deserved her third-most derisive scoff. "Why should I? Guangli's a good kid, he's smart, he's got a good head on his shoulders, and, most importantly, the poor fucker's going to get stuck with being a noble while I get to run off with Avatar Has-a-Nice-Ass. It's pretty much a win-win for me."

"I…I really want to ask you how you could _possibly_ come to the conclusion that Korra has a…um…_what you said_…but I'm afraid to ask."

Toph shrugged. "It's probably better that way. Let's just say that I know that the same way I know you have a pretty sweet rack."

This brought forth another round of splutters, and if Toph wasn't mistaken (_and she rarely was_), at least some of those signals had turned to radiating offense. _Fuck yeah, I'm on a __**roll.**_ "For the record," came the response, "I'm not even going to dignify that with a reply."

Toph giggled. "Probably for the best, Sugar Queen. Most things I say should be left in the gutter from whence they came."

This brought forth a sigh that shook Katara's entire body, and sent waves rippling through the grass. "You know, I shouldn't like you, but I do. It's like…I can't help myself."

"Heh…it's a common problem. I wouldn't worry about it. Hey!" She switched some mental gears in her head, and began speaking in Inuktitut. "How about we change languages! You know how often I get to practice my stuff? Like…_hardly fucking ever_. After all, who wants to speak Guangzhou all gods-damn day, and besides, no offense, but your accent is just the _pits_."

This brought out a light chuckle. "Yeah…I know…six months with the Northern Water Tribe didn't do wonders for my language skills."

Toph frowned; it was her turn to feel confused. "So, we're sticking with Guangzhou then?"

The signals changed, and suddenly, Katara was sad again. _And they say __**I'm **__hard to get a handle on._ "Yeah, if you don't mind…I mean, you speak well, and I love my native language as much as the next person, but, well, I need practice, and besides that…you…" A deep breath, and Toph could swear she sensed a few tears somewhere in there. "It's not important. Don't worry about it."

_One of these days, I'll be Empress of the World, and I'm going to make it punishable by death to fucking lie to me. One of these days, I fucking __**swear**_. But out loud, she said, "Uh huh. Look, you want to stick with Guangzhou, I'm cool with that; like everyone else, I swear better in my native tongue."

"I've noticed."

"Hey, the night is young; give me a few weeks, and I'll out-swear you in yours."

"You'd be surprised."

"Probably not, but whatever. Point is, seriously, what the _fuck_ is up with you guys? I mean, it's crazy. One minute, Sokka's cracking wise, and the next, he's staring off into space, or, at least, _that's what it feels like_, grinding his teeth. And then, last night, Korra leaves dinner all happy and bubbly, after which I have to feel her toss and turn all gods-damn night, and this morning, she looks all morose again. And don't even get me started on _you._"

"What…what about me?"

"Let me put it this way: When I was fourteen, in a desperate attempt to find earthbending instructors and sparring partners who could keep up with me, Dad brought in this prize fighter. Seriously, this asshole had never lost a fight in his entire _life_, and he acted like it, too. He was all smiles and politeness to Dad, but when he got me alone, he dropped the act and just trash talked and acted like a real fucking prick. So, naturally, I beat his ass harder than a teenage boy beats his own dick. Don't congratulate me, though, because I feel pretty bad about it. After all, the guy had every reason to sneer; probably thought that I was some noble's only daughter, coddled all her life, who needed a reality check. That beating broke him; I've never felt anything like that. I didn't just defeat him; I _destroyed him_. And, when it comes to the readings I'm getting from you? _He got off lucky_."

The heartbeat slowed, and, if it was physically possible, Toph wouldn't have been surprised if Katara's heart had just dropped into her toes. And that sigh? Toph was pretty sure she would've felt it a mile away.

"What do you know about what happened at the North?"

_I don't like how that voice sounds, either_. "That shit went tits-up, and the Fire Nation is doing its absolute best to pretend whatever it was didn't happen."

"Yeah, well, _we were there._ Right in the middle of it. And _tits-up _is a pretty good way of describing it. Everything went wrong, in the worst possible way, and…" A deep breath came, one which even Toph felt the pain in. "We had a friend, a friend my brother got very close to. One of the most wonderful people in the world, and we lost her, and…well…when you speak Inuktitut, you speak it like a Northern noble. Very clear, very erudite, with the weird nasal accent and everything. In other words…"

"I sound a lot like her."

"Pretty much. So…it just…it calls to mind things none of us really want to think about."

"So…I have to ask…what happened?"

Katara was looking away; even Toph wasn't sure how she knew that. "Let's just say that all three of us bear more of the blame than we care to think about."

Toph knew she shouldn't ask the question the second she thought of it, but she never had been good at keeping her mouth shut. "And Korra bears the most blame of all."

Toph was prepared for a lot of things to happen, but what she wasn't prepared for was the ice cold fury that flashed out from Katara and sent a chill up her own spine. _One of these days, that mouth is going to get me killed, I fucking __**swear.**_

"No, she doesn't. That bastard Zhao is the one who bears the most blame, Zhao and that man he served."

Desperate for a change of topic, Toph grabbed at the most obvious one. "Zhao the Butcher?"

The fury subsided. "You know about him?"

"Psh. _Everyone_ knows about Zhao the Butcher. Let's just say that he made his career right here in the Earth Kingdom, doing the jobs no one else in the Fire Nation was willing to do. He's the kind of asshole who thinks that the way to drive guerillas out of a district is to burn the entire fucking province to the ground."

"That…that explains a lot, you know."

"I have a talent for making shit clear like that." With that, Toph felt they were back on solid ground, and the negative signals had begun to fade into, if not positive ones, at least ones that were neutral. Feeling confident, she heaved herself to her feet, not bothering to brush the dirt and grass from her already filthy, sweat-soaked workout clothes. "And on that note, I think it's time for a change of pace. Don't you?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not sure I _want_ to know about what, exactly, happened up North, and you don't seem inclined to tell me about this naughty with a nice body that you keep fantasizing about, so how about we head over to this stream over the next hill and have a little spar?"

That brought a laugh from Katara, and Toph could only hope it came with a smile. "Something tells me that there's no such thing as a _little spar _with you."

Toph put her hands on her hips and struck what she hoped was a confident pose. "Damn straight. I much prefer the phrase, _beating the shit out of each other in the most fun way possible_, but, you know, that tends to scare people."

Katara was rising, accompanied by the sounds of her hands running along her skirt. "My dear, I've defeated a Crown Prince, brought down a bandit, slept with the enemy, and faced down a god. You're not going to scare me."

Toph scoffed, choosing, for now, to ignore the phrase _faced down a god_. "Yeah, sure, you say that _now_…"

"Oh, it is _so_ on."

"Sweet."

That was when Toph officially decided that Ms. Sugar Queen was cool. _Now_, she thought, as they headed for the stream, _if only she liked girls…_

* * *

What, you guys thought I was going to write a fic that has multiple POVs without hoping into Toph's head? _Please. _And that was ridiculously fun, too. I actually read through it twice, it was so fun. _But I digress..._

Moving on...a couple of shout-outs and responses, because you guys are awesome and I love encouraging you:

Lady Kaelyn - I read that review to my wife last night, and she burst into hysterics. Then, she informed me that you won't have to find me, because she will have already put me in the ground. So no worries! At least, for now! *shifty eyes*

inthehood - Sweet! You have no idea how good that review made me feel! I really do try to make sure that my ship doesn't take over the entire story, and I seem to have succeeded thus far. Like I said, my goal is for a fervent Kataanger to be able to read this and enjoy themselves. Not sure how much that's possible, but there you go. Also, hmm...I dunno about you comment about Aang...I like the kid, so I like to think he'll grow up...but the sad thing, one could write him as a dick in his adult years, and it wouldn't be completely off base. It doesn't help that LOK doesn't make a very good case for him as a father.

Project Tenma - What do you mean? I mean, thanks for liking my fluffiest of fluff, but even that one..._yeesh_.

CherishRedemption - You're welcome!

That's all for now! In the next chapter, Zuko gives a briefing. You could actually probably skip the next one, but then again, you guys never listen to me. Stay tuned!


	36. ZUKO XI

ZUKO

BY THE TIME HE HAD INHALED SOME BREAKFAST AND ASSEMBLED HIS PLATOON FOR THE MORNING BRIEFING, ZUKO FELT A LOT LIKE HE HAD JUST RUN TWENTY MILES IN FULL BATTLE-RATTLE AND FOUGHT A BATTLE AT THE END OF IT. To everyone's pleasant surprise, Lord Bei Fong had not been exaggerating about the accommodations; every platoon got its own barracks, with plenty of space, and every officer got their own room in the HQ building. To no one's surprise, however, this didn't make things any easier. After trooping back from town and settling into the compound at the entrance to the Bei Fong estate (conveniently placed right off the main road in and out of Gaoling), a brief period of chaos had been followed hard by a long evening and a tiring morning of tightly organized madness. By the time it was all settled, Zuko considered himself lucky in having managed to grab a few hours' sleep on the hard army bed in his room, before hurling himself up and being halfway through shoveling breakfast into his face before he was even fully aware of what was going on.

Sadly, going back to bed was not an option, so Zuko bravely chugged absurd amounts of army tea strong enough to eat a spoon and set to smoking enough cigarettes to kill a komodo-rhino, all the while entertaining intricate fantasies of a nice, long nap, preferably in a vault where no one could find him. He was in process of wondering if it would be possible to sneak a blue-eyed waterbender into that vault without tipping anyone off as to his presence when he stepped into the enlisted barracks to the sound of Sergeant Toshio barking the call to attention.

Zuko had no doubt that, just a moment before, everyone had been relaxing, swearing, smiling, stretched out helter-skelter across the floor. All of that vanished in the blink of an eye, the platoon leaping to attention, forty-one pairs of heels clicking together in almost perfect unison. Zuko paused in the doorway, while Toshio barked the order to bow, a bow which Zuko returned. He let his eyes drift over the assembly, and, finding nothing out of place, nodded at Toshio, who barked, "_AS YOU WERE!"_

Zuko moved to center stage (_as it was_), where a large map of Gaoling and its immediate surroundings had been posted to the wall. Toshio took his place beside him, handing Zuko a bamboo stick before sliding a respectful distance away. On the other side of the map stood a senior retainer in the Bei Fong livery, a white winged boar on his uniform and a _jian_ sword at his hip. Zuko had met him the night before, at the officers' briefing. His name was Guan Yu. He was about the Captain's age, and had a similar way of holding himself. Zuko had liked him instantly, choosing to completely ignore the fact that it was obvious that the man was one of those Imperial Army soldiers who had avoided surrender when his uncle took Ba Sing Se and brought the Earth Kingdom to terms.

_If anything_, Zuko reflected, _that just makes me respect him more._

Zuko nodded at his boys. "Morning, gentlemen."

"Good morning, sir!" came the chorus. Guan Yu, Zuko noticed, remained silent, but seemed to approve of the proceedings, even if he was always a beat behind, thanks to the translator whispering in his ear.

Zuko turned back to his boys, and tried not to smile. _My boys_. He knew every one of their names, their histories, their faces. He knew the names of their parents, who had brothers in the military, who had lost family in the wars. He knew the shirkers and the hard-workers, those who would exceed without prompting and those who needed a boot in the ass to so much as get out of bed. He knew the good, the bad, the ugly, and the boys who were just serving out their National Service, counting down the days until they could go home. He knew them all, and he loved every single one of them.

_My boys. _"How are we doing this morning?" This brought on a predictable chorus of groans. "Excellent! I'm glad to hear it! Well, let's get on with it; there's work to do, and I'm sure you're all eager to get to it!" Zuko paused, relishing the mixture of more groans and scattered laughter. "Alright then! Smoke 'em if you got 'em!" Zuko indulged the resulting cheer, and launched into his speech while the air filled with smoke.

Using his handy stick, he explained how everything was going to work. There were three main areas of responsibility: The stadium where the games would take place, the city proper, and the area around it where the overflow crowd was setting up camp. Each platoon would take one, and switch every few days, with the fourth platoon resting during the day so that they could perform night duty. Arms were to consist of _naginata _spears (better for tight spaces) and their usual _wakizashi_ swords, but here, Zuko had to pause and put on his angry face.

"There are strict rules regarding the use of deadly force. That being, deadly force, or _any force at all_, is to be a last, extreme resort. Any man who steps out of line and causes trouble will answer directly to me. _Understood?!_"

_"Sir, yes, sir!"_

"Excellent." He went on, covering logistical details and the like. Rest, he emphasized, would be important; days were to be sun-up to sun-down. "Further," he growled, glaring, "this isn't a combat detail, but there will be no slacking off. _Understood?!"_

_ "Sir, yes, sir!"_

"That's what I thought." The stick had been shown, so it was time for the carrot. Zuko covered how leave would work. The platoon that had night duty on a given day would have the liberty of the town – _unarmed, and in duty uniforms only _– during the daylight hours before starting the night duty. Further, on each of the two Fridays that their stay in Gaoling would cover, the company would split into two halves, which would trade off enjoying an evening off, _contingent on good behavior_, Zuko emphasized.

"And what is good behavior?" Zuko asked. "To that, I say, _remember the Captain's words._ The _Code of Military Justice_ will be _fully enforced. Am I clear?!"_

_ "Sir, yes, sir!"_

After that, there was a brief Q&amp;A session (there weren't many question, but Zuko felt that it was important that his boys knew they could ask, given that the proper procedures were followed). Zuko then turned the floor over to Guan Yu, at which point he was pleased to see that, without prompting, his boys snapped back to attention and bowed in respect.

_Gods, I love these boys. Getting exiled was the best damn thing that ever happened to me._

Guan Yu, through his translator (whose Nihongo made Zuko wince, but was passable), gave a very concise, albeit comprehensive presentation, mostly about what they could all expect. Problems largely consisted of drunks and spectators angry when their favored fighters lost. There had been problems with the local Triad syndicate in the past, but Guan Yu didn't expect that they would try much with Fire Nation soldiers patrolling the streets. He finished by discussing crowd control procedures, humbly requesting that the soldiers not take any initiatives and follow their officers' instructions. When he wrapped up, Zuko thanked him, they exchanged bows, and Zuko once more opened the floor for questions. There being none, Zuko went over a few housekeeping details, urged his boys to get a good night's rest, and nodded for Sergeant Toshio to give the call to dismiss.

There was more to do, of course. Zuko watched, pleased, while his boys leaped into action. Sergeants strode into the assembly, barking orders. Soon, soldiers were bustling about the compound, getting ready for full duty on the morrow, and, Zuko did not doubt, looking forward to a final night of something akin to relaxation.

There was one final bit of what Zuko couldn't help but feel was the most important business of the day. In essence, it consisted of the Captain, puffing his pipe and smiling, while Zuko, Ryu, and Toru took advantage of dinner to take turns trying various ways to get Yukawa (Tsurukawa had hurled himself into bed immediately after finishing eating) to take one of their places at the ball the following evening.

To no one's surprise, Yukawa did absolutely nothing. He merely sat and smiled, watching as Zuko and his fellow officers flailed desperately about.

* * *

So, just some housekeeping details there, Faithful Readers. I felt it was important to establish how this would all be working; that way, the setting is firmly in your mind, and I don't have to spend too much time later calling back to it. Though, you can probably skip a lot of this. It's most important to me in established how Zuko feels about his boys, and how, I think, his boys feel about him. I hope it's obvious that they respect and admire him, without my harping on it.

Moving on...not too much else to say here. Sorry you didn't get too many updates today, and that they came so late. I had a real bad case of _writer's laze_, which is a condition different from _writer's block_. Writer's laze occurs when the writer knows exactly what they want to write, how they want to write it, only can't quite motivate themselves to do it. I was just in this headspace of, _Meh, I want to be entertained for once_, and I got wrapped up in _Half-Asleep_, which is an _incredible _fic by The Crushinator. Seriously, it's awesome. Go check it out if you haven't already. I was just..._blown away_.

Back to the fic, though...that's all for today. I promise you'll get more tomorrow! Speaking of which...

In the next chapter, Sokka takes Korra out for a walk around town, and they have a moment. Stay tuned!


	37. SOKKA I

SOKKA

SOKKA WASN'T ENTIRELY SURE HOW IT HAPPENED, OR WHAT HE WAS THINKING. He knew how he got there, though, and maybe that was what mattered. He had spent the morning wandering and poking around the estate (which he found almost mind-numbingly massive), before dropping by the mansion for a bite to eat. Food in hand, he had been struck by a sudden whim, no doubt brought on by the fact that it was a beautiful day outside, and only the gods knew when was the last time he had noticed. Through a serious of amusing misadventures, he had haphazardly found his way to the roof, where he settled down on the edge, feet dangling off, munching his food and watching the clouds go by.

It really was gorgeous outside. He loved his homeland, but he couldn't help but feel that, for all of the South's virtues, they just didn't have views like this. There were no buildings this tall, and what harvest there was would have already come and gone. Here, there were massive, well-tended fields, wheat swaying in the breeze. _And the breeze! _The wind was soft and cool, no bite, no slice. Back home, it would be ice cold right now. The winds would be blowing up from the Pole and if the first snow hadn't come yet, it soon would.

But here? There was still color in the world. It was a riot of oranges and reds and purples and golds. It was almost as if the whole world was on _fire_, but not the bad kind, not fire bent by angry soldiers or furious princes, no, but the warm fire of a hearth late on a cold winter's night, or a campfire crackling beneath a pot of stew, or…

_Alright, Sokka, can the poetic bullshit. It's nice, alright? You're not trying to get in someone's pants._

He chuckled at himself, and set his bowl aside. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his smoking gear, and rolled himself a cigarette, striking the match off the tiles of the roof. He was a few puffs in before he realized that he wasn't alone.

_"Hey, Sokka…"_

He just about startled himself right off the roof, which, sure, wouldn't have been all that bad (after all, the leap off that Fire Nation troop train and onto an air bison's back had been _much_ more precarious, and he hadn't even hesitated), but still, _eep. _Pressing a hand to his chest, he turned, and saw the Avatar.

_Korra, you asshole, her name is __**Korra.**_

It was a while until he spoke, or, at least, it felt like it. In all that time, he just stared at her, and she just sat there, a few feet back and to the right, hugging herself tightly, looking off into the distance. Every once in a while, her eyes would slide to him, before darting away.

He sighed. His sister was right. _Which isn't new, to be honest. _He couldn't keep being this way, and he couldn't keep treating her like this. So what if he'd never really wanted to go on this quest? So what if he'd been hurt when his father had assured him that the tribe would get along just fine for a few years? So what if his sister was head-over-heels for some Fire Nation lieutenant and didn't even know it? So what if…if…

_None of that is her fault_, he told himself. _The fact that there's a new moon isn't her fault._

_ Except for the ways in which it is…_

He shook his head, casting the thought away. _Enough_. He took a deep breath, let it out, looked off into the horizon.

"Hey, kid, how're you doing?"

The silence that came back at him was deafening. He turned back, saw that Korra was staring at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. He bit down an urge to burst into hysterics, and, instead, looked back to the sky, and settled for a soft chuckle.

"Yeah," he said, "I'm bored, too. There really isn't shit to do around here." He cast a quick glance at her, saw there was no response on its way, and turned back, trying not to laugh. "You know…tell you what. From what I hear, the city won't be overrun with soldiers until tomorrow, and besides, we know the Ninety-Fourth, more or less; anyone who serves with Zuko is bound to be solid people. Know what I mean?"

There was a beat, and then, _finally_, a soft voice, couched in a whisper of disbelief. "Yeah…I liked Zuko…" A pause came, a quiet laugh. "Don't tell Katara I said that though…"

Sokka chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't. But, yeah, like I was saying, how about we take advantage of the lull and the crowds, head into town, see the sights, relax a bit? Sound good?"

He looked back just in time to see a smile break on her face that literally warmed his heart. _Gods, I'm turning into a softy in my old age. _He nodded to himself, and wished Katara was there to see that he was trying, while also thanking all the gods, with equal fervor, that she wasn't, because then she'd make _that face_ and be all, _Told you so._

_ Yes,_ he thought, _this is just what we all need. Take a day, go for a walk, be around people, rediscover why I used to like the kid, forget about the North for a bit, stop being such a morose little dickbag. Yeah…_

It all went swimmingly at first. The road into town was packed and full of people. They took the alternate route to the road that Lao had showed them, neatly avoiding the compound where the red-and-black-clad soldiers were settling in. Everyone seemed to be in a happy and festive mood. It reminded Sokka a lot of spring back home, of the annual celebration of the first day of the true fishing season, after the winter storms had passed. There was the same air of excitement, of renewal, of release from the depths of winter (or, in this case, never-ending war, no matter how quiet this part of the Earth Kingdom was; after all, the areas where rebels roamed the hills weren't all that far away). There was even the same subtle current of fear, of heartache, or worry, painted on the faces of refugees, people whose languages and clothes marked them as from the volatile northwest, and even the occasional Fire Nation face, eyes darting this way and that.

But nothing was going to get them down. Even when Korra saw the same Fire Nation faces, she reacted, not with fear or hate, but with her old curiosity. She pointed at one, and asked, "Hey, Sokka? Why do some of the Fire Nation people seem so afraid?"

"Well," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and sounding (to his ears, anyways) remarkably like his father, "remember what Lao said? Because this is a quiet place with no permanent garrison, a lot of refugees and rebels come here, but also people from the Fire Nation who would like to avoid the Occupation. You know, deserters, draft dodgers, political dissidents, people like that."

She nodded. "So it was true what Zuko said to us, after he caught Jet but before we left."

"About how the Fire Nation is far from united, and the longer the Occupation drags on, the worse it gets? It would seem so. Draft dodging is pretty epidemic these days, from what I hear."

She looked up at him, a thoughtful look on her face. "You store away a lot of crap in there, Sokka."

He laughed. "I know, right? But you never know when it might end up being useful. After all, if I hadn't paid attention to every bit of gossip and rumor about which Fire Nation troops were friendly, we never would've put a stop to Jet."

Korra made a face. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. Did I ever apologize?"

_No, you didn't, but you were a kid, and I wasn't used to you yet. _He ruffled her hair, causing her to swat him away. "Don't worry about it, kid. It's water under the bridge, and besides, that one turned out alright in the end."

She sighed. "I suppose so…still, I shouldn't have let myself be taken in by his lies."

He shrugged. "You live, you learn…ooh, meat kebabs!"

The meat kebabs, for the record, were delicious. They bought a full skewer apiece, and settled down on stools set beside the stand to eat and wash the meat down with ice cold juice. They walked, and after a while, weren't just chatting, but teasing each other, in a strangely big brother/little sister kind of way, verging on father/daughter.

There really was an absurd amount to see. There was the prostitutes' street, where elaborately made-up women leaned off of balconies and catcalled Sokka, which Korra seemed to find both delightfully entertaining and outrageously embarrassing. There was a troop of traveling firebenders putting on a little show on a street corner, competing for customers with a troop of earthbenders doing the same across the street. Korra couldn't stop laughing at the antics, and found it even more amusing when Sokka leaned down and, whispering in her ear, explained how it was obvious that not only were they not competing, but they were probably working together. He pointed out the signs, and even started calling out what was going to come next.

"How do you know all of that?" she asked.

He shrugged, doing his best to give a nonchalant shrug. "Hey, what can I say? I'm an observant fellow." He looked right into her skeptical look, and threw in a wink. "Plus, there was a troop of bending entertainers back home who used to bounce from village to village doing the same thing."

Her eyes went wide. "Really?"

He nodded. "Totally. Only those were firebenders competing against _waterbenders_, but still, if I'm honest, these guys are _much _better at it."

After a time, they found a rather upscale-looking pub near the center of town, with a nice view of one of the main city squares and a beautiful little covered porch. They settled down at a table, and Sokka made a great production of swearing Korra to secrecy before ordering her a glass of wine along with a beer for himself. When the wine arrived, she stared at it for a bit, before looking to him, uncertainty and excitement present in equal measures on her face.

"You don't think Katara would actually get mad, would you?"

He bit down on a laugh at how much the statement sounded like, _You don't think Mom will get mad, do you? _He shook his head, raising his mug of beer. "Not a chance. If anything, she'd be happy we're having a good time. To us!"

She raised her glass, returned the toast, took a sip, and promptly spluttered and turned red. The hysterics that threatened from within were almost painful, but he held them back, burying his face in his mug. "You alright?" he asked.

She coughed and wheezed and finally managed a nod. "Yeah…I think so…" She took another sip, which seemed to go down a bit easier. "It's definitely not ice wine, that's for sure."

"Yeah, it's probably spice wine from the Fire Nation. That stuff has gotten popular in these parts of late."

When Sokka later tried to figure out when the spell of the afternoon broke, he would have to point to that moment. He had, without realizing it, called attention to the reality that the simple prevalence of Fire Nation wine deep in the Earth Kingdom, while at the same time similar exchanges were happening all over the world, all showed just how much the world had changed, and that the reality so many wanted Korra to restore was gone for good. It all probably would've ended there, but just as Korra took another sip, a look of guarded approval crossing her face, one of the soldiers went racing by, slicing through the crowds and heading for the city hall, a message pouch bouncing against his hip.

The look that passed over Korra's face was hard to describe, so Sokka didn't even really try. He just took his beer in both his hands, and waited.

"Nothing's ever going to be the same, is it?"

He didn't really know what to say to that. _What **does** one say to that? _Even after two years, the _absurdly-young-yet-unfathomably-old _dual nature of Korra was something he just couldn't get his mind around. Looking down in this beer, he said, "No, it's not." He turned his gaze to the temple across the square from where they were sitting. He frowned at it. The temples back home where simple things, often more like roadside shrines than places of worship. In the Southern Water Tribes, services were conducted out in the open, beneath the sky, in full view of gods and men. Here, though? Even the most minor deities got intricate temples dripping in gold. The first time he had seen one, he had been rather awed. By the fifth temple, though, he was very much of the, _seen one, seen them all_, opinion.

_Just one more reminder that I'm far from home._

And then he pondered Korra's question some more, and didn't like where it led.

_Can I ever go back? Really? Truly?_

He didn't know.

"But then again," he said, swirling his beer around in the mug, "maybe that's for the best. I mean, it's not like everything was fine and dandy before Sozin decided his mad fantasies might actually work."

Korra sighed. "Yeah, I know. The others try to gloss over a lot, but it's easy to read between the lines. Say what you will about the way things are now, but at least the Fire Nation put a stop to foot binding."

"While manpower shortages forced the Fire Nation to tone down the racist rhetoric…also…_the others…?_"

She gave him a look that made him regret the question. "_You know what I mean._"

"Ah. _Right_." _Avatars…always with the Avatars…and spirits…and gods…_

_ And Yue…_

That did it. Just like that, he was there again, in the cavern, Zhao's own men turning on him, surrounded by death and terror, while the love of his life, the person he wanted to be with forever, looked at him, a dead koi in her arms, blood on her clothes, tears in her eyes…

_And he knew what she was going to do…_

"You hate me, don't you?"

It occurred to him that he didn't know how much time had passed. All he knew was that, somehow, the sun seemed to have sunk in the sky. _Was it like that a minute ago? I swear it wasn't…_

But it didn't matter. Because tears were dancing in Korra's eyes, and he didn't know what to do.

She didn't wait for him. "You hate me. I think Katara does, too, but she hides it well. But you…I know you hate me. Aang said that I should let it go, not let it destroy me, but…but if I had just _listened_, kept my head down, waited until Zhao left, not gotten involved in some stupid soldier's brawl…and even then, if I hadn't…if I just hadn't…"

The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he knew what was happening.

"Yeah, _maybe_. You went against everything we told you to do, made a tense situation worse, kicked off a battle that shouldn't have happened and that nearly destroyed Iqaluit and almost plunged the North back into war before it was ready, and yeah, Zhao took that all as an excuse to try and kill the fucking moon, but let's remember: _Zhao was fucking crazy_. Maybe he would've followed his orders, made his show of force, and left, or maybe he would've found his excuse, if not at that moment, then maybe later. Who knows?"

"But…it was _my fault._"

"Everyone dropped the ball that night. The only person who came out looking good was Yue, and that's a fact."

Korra looked up at the sky, her eyes shining. "She's still beautiful, you know…"

Sokka looked away. "Yeah, now more than ever…but that's not the point." He steadied himself, looked back. "The point is…fuck, I dunno. Katara's the one who does this crap, not me. The point is…I don't hate you. I just…whatever that Aang kid said to you, whatever Katara's said, whatever Lobsang's said, pretend I'm saying it now. Enjoy your wine, and you know what? _I think I'll buy you another. _Sound good?"

She bit her lip. "Well…I dunno…"

He rolled his eyes. _Gods, this girl is the world's best form of birth control, no matter how much I love her to pieces. _"Look, _I don't hate you_. I'm just sad and a bit angry, alright? Drink your wine, enjoy the day, and let's get back to where we were."

She re-focused on the horizon. "Yeah…it is a nice day…

"Heh…it's gorgeous. You know…" He drained the rest of his beer, and signaled for another. "I'd just about forgotten that days like this even exist. I swear, when this is all over," _assuming I make it out alive_, he added in a thought that even he didn't really accept, because he was damned if he was going to entertain any other possibility, _because Yue asked me to live_, "I'm going to go a-wandering, and try to experience as many days like this in as many different places as possible. What do you think about that?"

She gave a cautious smile. "That sounds…that sounds really fun." She sipped her wine, eyes locked on the sky. "You know, Lobsang said, when I master airbending, he's going to get me my own air bison. You can use it, if you want."

He shook his head. "Nah, that just defeats the purpose, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Half the fun would be the journey, I suppose…though, wouldn't you worry about getting lost?"

He shrugged. "Meh, and besides, it's not like we never got lost while flying."

She giggled. "True…then again, it's like Lobsang says…"

He cut her off. "Oh, fuck no. We're not going into any fucking koans about how _not all who wander are lost_ and how _not all that glitters is gold _and _blah blah blah_…"

She finally looked back at him, and he swore the smile almost reached her eyes, which no doubt was better than he was doing. "I dunno, I like the koans…"

He rolled his eyes. "You and my sister both…"

They stayed for another hour or so. Sokka had two more beers, and Korra had another glass of wine, and they even meant their laughter, though the magic was gone.

_If it was ever really there_, Sokka thought, an idea he immediately rejected, because, come on, _I'm Sokka, for fuck's sake, I don't do this bullshit._

_ My sister's supposed to be the deep and complex one._

* * *

See, Kaelyn? I _told you_ it wasn't like _that_. Yeesh. I'm slightly offended that you would think that of me. I mean, Sokka's 24, and Korra's _15!_ What kind of...

*remembers that he once read a fic that slashed Iroh with Toph while Toph was 12*

You know what? _Nevermind. _You never can be too sure in this place. Shit gets...like..._really weird._ In fact, let's have a contest: Everyone, name the weirdest, most bizarre, most unsettling fanfic you ever came across! Mine would definitely have to be one that dug up, wherein Snape basically rapes the Teletubbies. I didn't want to read it, but I had to; it was one of those things. Took a long time to scrub my brain clean of _that_ mental image.

_Anyways..._so, what's going on here? Basically, Sokka is a bit angry and hurt, and Korra's lost and traumatized. One of the interesting things that the show never went into was the aftershocks of what happened at the North. For the record, I'm not blaming the show for this; it's a kids' show, at the end of the day, and PTSD is a bit much for that. Still, Korra always had a bit more volatile of a personality than Aang did. What would happen if _she_ was thrown into a situation at the North? How would Sokka feel? And, also, what would the real after effects of linking with a literal _god_ be? Anytime that happens in mythology, it never turns out well for the non-god in the equation. Every story is pretty clear that not only do gods not operate on our level of morality and understanding, but anyone who actually links up with them is going to come out the worse for wear.

Now, before you ask, I'm not going to fully reveal what happened at the North yet. However, it is coming; I just transferred it into the computer. So be prepared!

In the next chapter, a conspiracy is formed by a fountain, and a final player is revealed. Stay tuned!


	38. CONSPIRACY BY A FOUNTAIN

CONSPIRACY BY A FOUNTAIN

OUT BEHIND THE BEI FONG MANSION IS A VERY BEAUTIFUL, VERY SECLUDED FOUNTAIN. It was fairly simple fountain, little more than a spouting geyser of water hemmed in by neatly trimmed hedges, but all the more beautiful for that. It dated back to the days of Lord Lao Bei Fong's grandfather, Lord Fei Bei Fong, who, being a considerate man, had had the place created in order to spend time with his many concubines where his wife need not see. It had fallen into a state of disuse and disrepair during the time of Lao's father, the Lord Jiao Bei Fong, who, disliking his wife, had felt no need to entertain his concubines in private. When Lao had succeeded his father, shortly after the Fall of Ba Sing Se, the fountain had remained in shambles until, suddenly, Lord Lao ordered it restored.

This caused much comment among those who knew about it. After all, it was known that the Lord and Lady had gotten lucky enough to have one of those few arranged marriages that turned into a love match. Lord Lao was known to not keep any concubines, official or otherwise, so why bother with the place? None asked, though; after all, it was not the place of those ordered to carry out such tasks to ask questions. They merely shrugged and went about their business.

Only a few knew that Lao planned to use the place, not for concubines, but for conspiracy.

It was very late when Lao, accompanied by his half-brother, Zhang Shao, a spare, spectacled man almost exactly his age, headed out into the night. Dinner had been calm and relaxing, served at sunset on the veranda under a sky bathed a thousand-thousand shades of red and pink and gold. The Lord Lao and the Lady Jiayi had contented themselves with quiet contemplation, enjoying this final period of calm before the next few weeks of insanity…and the gods only know how long a time of confusion and fear following that. Spirits seemed to have lifted all around. Their daughter engaged in spirited conversation with the Water Tribe siblings, and the young Avatar seemed to have abandoned the worst of her recent funk. After dinner, all had gone in various directions, and it wasn't until long into the night that Lao had given his wife a kiss, joined his half-brother, and slipped out of the mansion and into the darkness.

Now, he stood before the fountain, and, being a gentle soul, took a moment to clear his mind and steel himself for the road he was about to take the final, irrevocable step on, the conspiracy that could only lead to rivers of blood. Beside him, Shao, of similar nature, did the same. Together, they cast their eyes over the surrounding foliage, watching the leaves ripple and dance in the cool evening breeze. They looked down into the fountain, at the water clear as glass, at the way the moon shimmered in the eddies and flows of the fountain. Finally, they closed their eyes and breathed deep of the heavy scents of the night, until, smiles creasing their lips, they detected one smell that was not natural. It was faint, almost nonexistent, but there, the smell of strong tobacco.

They didn't hesitate, merely stepped around the fountain the find the source.

Neither one of them were the least surprised to find that the former monk Lobsang had beaten them to the meeting, and Lobsang seemed equally happy to see them. He unfolded himself from his meditative pose on the ground, removing his pipe long enough to exchange bows and embraces with the two other men. They stood together after that, talking quietly, mostly of inconsequential things, more to pass the time than anything else. None of the men had ever directly met the final conspirator, and a faint nervousness fluttered beneath all of their skins. All three men were veteran rebels, though; they kept their nerves tightly and easily in check, even as their eyes occasionally flitted over their surroundings.

The two figures, when they appeared, seemed to have literally materialized out of thin air. All three men jumped; even the master airbender was caught completely off guard. They instinctively moved together, hands moving to the daggers at their belts. All movement stopped, though, when there came the hiss of steel on leather, and the distinctive curves of two _katanas_ flashed in the darkness. A dead, enveloping kind of silence, not unlike a wet woolen blanket, enveloped the proceedings. Even Lobsang held his breath; he put any thoughts of bending out of his mind, as one of the figures seemed to be prepared to leap forward and block his _chi_, while the other, from their stance, was obviously a skilled firebender.

Finally, to his joy, Lao's voice came back to him. He kept it calm and cool, even as he was unable to tear his eyes from the bared steel before him. "Now," he said, eyes narrowing as anger overcame fear, "just what is the meaning of this?"

The two _ninjas_ (for that was how they were dressed) looked to each other without really _looking_, and then one of them pointed at Shao with their _katana_ and grunted.

If any of the three men noticed the vaguely feminine quality of that grunt, they did not show it. Instead, Shao stepped forward, hands raised, fingers spread, and said, bowing his head, "I am Zhang Shao. I am Lord Bei Fong's half-brother, and I have known and served him all our lives."

Lao stepped up beside him, all fear gone. He clenched his fists, teeth grinding as he growled, "Not only that, but his son will be my heir, and he has been a part of my plans from the beginning. If he was unreliable, we never would have made it this far.

The _ninjas _seemed to consider for another moment, and then, without a word, they returned their swords to the scabbards slung over their backs. They seemed to relax, though it was hard to tell; their clothing seemed to melt into the night. They looked past the clump of men and nodded, causing the three men to turn and jump once more at the third _ninja_ who was just then shimmering out of the darkness. The figure regarded them all in silence for a moment, glaring at them with hard, cold eyes that glimmered in the moonlight. Finally, a soft, feminine sigh escaped from the shadow, and then the _ninja_ pulled off its mask and threw back its hood and revealed its face.

The three men expected many things, but they did not expect to see a young woman who could not have been older than twenty. She had sharp, hard features, as hard as her eyes, and had an air of classic Fire Nation nobility. She had the golden eyes common among the nobility, but Lobsang could tell that she was no firebender. She wore no make-up, and her hair was packed into a tightly wound bun.

It was Zhang Shao who put two-and-two together, thus revealing why his brother had never excluded him from his plans. Chuckling to himself, he bowed deeply and said, "You are the Lady Arinori Mai, I presume."

To that, the Lady Arinori Mai allowed herself a thin little smile, bowed back, and said, "You would be correct, good sir."

Just like that, the tension vanished. The other two men let out nervous laughs, bows were exchanged, and Lobsang allowed himself to go back to puffing on his pipe, even if the action was, at first, a bit more frantic than usual. After a few moments relaxation, Lobsang blew out a gust of smoke, his face finally returned to its usual serenity. "I must admit," he said, "it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Mai allowed her own face to relax, and her smile finally reached her eyes. "Likewise, Master Lobsang. Might I say that you look _exactly_ as I imagined you."

Lobsang laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment." He gestured towards Lao. "Have you made the acquaintance of Lord Bei Fong?"

Mai bowed her head to the man in question. "I have, though I doubt he remembers me."

Lao blinked, momentarily lost. "I have? When?"

Mai laughed, a tight, yet happy sound. It was music to the ears of those who knew her; since a boy named Zuko disappeared into exile, laughter from her was either fake, or earned with sweat and tears. "You wouldn't," she said. "It was at the Fire Festival ball in Omashu last year, and I was just another bored-looking Fire Nation noble."

Lao bowed his head. "I apologize, my lady. I don't recall you at all."

Mai's expression turned grim and proud. "Which was the point. I move through the highest corridors of power precisely because I look and act just like everyone else."

Lao nodded, an admiring glint in his eyes. "A most excellent disguise…and an effective one. From what Lobsang tells me, your information has often proved invaluable." His face fell, and he shifted his feet nervously. He gestured vaguely at the still masked figures behind him. "Now, if you don't mind, are we allowed to know the identity of our other guests…?"

Mai's grin turned from proud to almost savage, a change that left Lobsang feeling anger towards whatever circumstances had wrought such a change in what he couldn't help but feel had once been a bright, happy, optimistic young girl. "You may. Gentlemen, if you will turn around…"

They did, in time to see the two _ninjas_ throw off their hoods and masks to reveal two more startlingly beautiful young woman, the same age as the Lady Mai. One had a round face with bright eyes and a happy smile. The other could only have been the product of the highest levels of nobility, with gold eyes that sparkled like fire and the most determined expression that any of the men had ever seen.

"Gentlemen," Mai said, voice thrumming with excitement, "might I first introduce you to my good friend, Ty Lee." The bubbly-looking girl gave a cute little curtsy, her movements astoundingly fluid and graceful.

"I'm just a silly little commoner," she said, voice bright and happy, "but I hope you _gentlemen_ won't hold it against me."

The men could not help but laugh, and Lobsang shrugged and said, "You are not alone, my dear. My parents were unlearned air bison herders, and poor Shao's mother was a whore."

Shao raised a finger. "I beg your pardon, but she was a _concubine_, thank you."

Lao chuckled. "That's not the phrase my mother used."

Shao rolled his eyes and elbowed his half-brother. "Well, she did have good reason to talk about my mother in such terms."

Lao elbowed his half-brother right back. "Indeed she did." He turned to the other young woman, and bowed. "And, unless I miss my guess, this young lady is _not_ of low birth."

"No," Mai said, "she is not. This, gentlemen, is my other best friend, and, if all goes well, the Avatar's firebending teacher." She took a deep breath, because nobility are nothing if not dramatic, and dropped the bomb.

"Gentlemen, may I present the Princess Tokugawa Azula."

The Princess bowed, as only royalty really can, while the men stared, dumbfounded. The Princess rose, tilted her head, and tried very hard not to laugh. "I think we broke their brains, Mai."

The words snapped the men out of whatever doubts they may have had. After all, only royalty could speak like that. They didn't teach Putonghua like that anywhere that couldn't be called a palace.

The men gave themselves shakes, and Lao stepped forward, confused. "Forgive me, Your Highness-"

Azula raised a hand. "Please, _Azula_ will do just fine. Or _Shizuka_, if others are around. I doubt I'll be a _princess_ much longer."

Lao nodded. "True…but…I'm sorry, but I have to ask…_why? _Why are you…why are _any of you_…doing this?"

"Committing treason?" Mai asked, stepping around the men to join her friends. "Easy: We want to put an end to the war that has taken too many of our friends and family, and that is bleeding my country dry, of both life and honor, while sinking her further and further into tyranny. Plus," she added with a shrug, "there's a boy involved, at least for me. A little payback, if you will."

Lobsang nodded. "Very well." He turned to Ty Lee. "And you, my dear?"

Ty Lee's Putonghua was neither as good nor as refined as that of her friends, but she got the job done. "I'm here for the best friends a girl could ever have."

Lao nodded, then turned to Azula. "And you, Your High-er, I mean…my lady?"

Azula didn't even hesitate.

"I want to make my family pay, and I want my brother back."

And that, the men agreed, without even having to look at each other, was good enough for them.

* * *

So, this probably comes as a shock to just about...well..._nobody_, but still, I really hope that I caught _somebody _off guard. If I did, let me know! It'll give me a nice little giggle. :-D

But yes, Azula's officially here. You know what I like about this story? So far, not a single chapter has been extraneous. They've all had some kind of bearing on the plot, and they've all in some way moved the plot forward. That's pretty kickass, if you ask me.

That's really there is to say about that. In the next chapter, Katara has a nightmare, and has to confront some uncomfortable truths. Stay tuned!


	39. KATARA X

KATARA

THE DREAM WAS A NEW ONE, OR, AT LEAST, ONE SHE DID NOT REMEMBER HAVING BEFORE. In the dream, she's in the North, in Iqaluit, walking near the docks. She knows this, even though there is nothing see; the world is nothing but pure, blindingly white snow, swirling at the edges of her vision. It is very cold; her breath mists in the air, and her arms are wrapped tight around her body. Pale blue shapes glimmer and flash off in the distance, monsters and screams and a man slicing his own stomach before another man sends his head rolling across the ground. Voices whisper in her ears, just at the edge of her senses, like the buzzing of bees. They say things like _gods help us_ and _Yue _and other things in terrified Nihongo that she doesn't understand. The voices build, until everything is a horrifying din, like blades being pushed into her ears. She puts her hands to her ears and falls to her knees and screws her eyes shut and screams.

Suddenly, the voices stop. She drops her hands and opens her eyes. The shapes have vanished from the snow. The lights have dimmed.

The voices are gone.

She becomes aware that she is not alone. She blinks, and before her is a boy in battered Fire Nation armor, no more than eighteen-or-nineteen-years-old. He has a bloody bandage wrapped around his head, and he cradles his arm against his body. She blinks, and he changes. Now, he's one of the young rebels she met near Chameleon Bay, eyes dead, the only life the fire of hate. Another blink, and he's one of the Northern warriors, eyes full of fear, fingers clasping a spear, knuckles bone white. With every blink, she sees another boy, each one of a different nation, each one looking out at a world they cannot possibly understand.

The first boy is back. He reaches out, grabs her wrist. Somehow, Katara is standing, looking down at him. She remembers him, remembers the cluster of prisoners, the survivors of the garrison slaughtered by the rage of the Spirit of the Ocean Itself, merged with a teenage girl. The boy is alone now, but the scene is the same. He babbles in broken Inuktitut, about how sorry they are, about how he just wants to go _home._

Katara feels confused, frightened, lost, just like she did at the time. Unbidden tears burn in her eyes, and Yue's kind face is burned into her mind. She looks down at the boy and doesn't know what to feel. The Fire Lords unleashed this madness upon the world, ground humanity down through a century of horror. But then…this boy didn't start this. None of them did. They only lived it, and were extinguished by it.

_And maybe…_

She remembers a pale blue monster, rising up from the sea, and a teenage girl at its heart, eyes gone, replaced by a power she still couldn't comprehend.

_Maybe the madness was there all along…_

She finally speaks to the boy. "If you want to go home, why are you even here?"

He looks away, releases her wrist. "I never wanted to come," he says, tears rolling down his face. "They never asked me. They came, called my name, put a spear in my hand, and now I'm here."

Her heart breaks. _None of us asked for this. All of us just want to go __**home…**_

_Even as we wonder if we can ever go home again…_

And then she remembers so many haunted, empty eyes, and wonders what _home_ even _means._

The boy is looking up at her again. Only, she has blinked, and he's not a boy anymore. He's a young man, handsome, even with one dead eye buried in a mass of scarred flesh. Her heart leaps, and she almost kisses him right then and there…

_Then, he speaks…_

"Who says we need a Fire Lord?" he asks. She remembers the question that sparked the answer. He had revealed how he wanted the war to end, to serve his people at home, to never send a boy to his death ever again, or watch another one die at his hands. She had asked him if that was ever possible, and he had admitted that it wasn't, not while his uncle sat the throne.

Just like that, they're in bed, in that tent. His head rests on a hard, rough pillow, while she stretches out beside him, head resting in her hand, propped on her elbow. She holds a bit of blanket to her chest. They are wearing nothing. He is smoking a cigarette. It is night. The only light is the cigarette.

She is confused. She asks, "How do you mean?"

He shrugs, a shadow shifting in the darkness. "Just that: My uncle labors under the weight of history, of his family, of his forefathers. They embarked on this road, and he feels honor-and-duty bound to press on to the bitter end."

"Then who should sit in his place? What Fire Lord would end this madness?"

"Well…that's the thing…_who says we need a Fire Lord? _Why must we be ruled by Fire Lords or Earth Emperors or kings or any number of men we only chose out of fear or cowardice? Why not make our own way, our own decisions, rule ourselves, forge our own destinies?"

She chews on her lips. She reaches out, takes the cigarette from his fingers, draws deep. And then, she says the words she had been thinking without thinking, the words she had barely known that she had been afraid to say:

"By that thinking, who's to say we even need an Avatar?"

She can feel him nod, but all he says is, "_Exactly._" And then the cigarette has been ground out in an ashtray and tossed aside, because she's on top of him and kissing him as if she's trying to steal his breath and he growls (_or maybe that's her_) and they're tumbling and there they go again and-

It's cold. _How did it get so cold? _Snow is swirling. _Snow? _No, not snow. It's black, like smoke. _Smoke? _There are screams again, screams in the darkness. She looks down. Her brother is in her arms. He's covered in blood. _She's covered in blood. _A head comes rolling up to her, a head with one dead eye surrounded by a scar. She looks up, up into the eyes of a laughing monster in the guise of a teenage girl. Her eyes glow, and when he speaks, her voice is a thousand-thousand voices…

_And one…_

_ "How dare you lose faith in me?!"_

She demands an apology. Katara refuses to give it. The monster raises its hands. Katara burns.

_Burns…_

_**BURNS!**_

She's awake. She stumbles into the bathroom, breath coming in ragged gasps, body trembling. Tears stream from her eyes. A scream tears at her throat, struggling to get out. She senses the water in a basin on the floor, feels it. She cools it, bends it into the sink. She splashes water on her face, feels the tendrils of cold slicing down her arms. She looks into a mirror, into eyes red and a face puffy. She heaves a shaky sigh, the closest she will allow herself to come to that scream. She closes her eyes, rests her forehead against the cool glass, and begins running through the only sutra that brings her peace.

_Only a dream…_

_ Only a dream…_

_**Only a dream…**_

It's a long time before she manages to sleep again.

* * *

I think, to see what happened at the North, would be mind-numbingly terrifying. It would really rattle you to your core, you know? Not only are the gods _real_, but they're not necessarily all that friendly. And to see the girl to whom you've been all but a mother for going on two years merge with that _being _and rain death and destruction down on conscripts just as terrified as you? That would leave a mark.

And you know, that's an honest-to-God, real question to ask: _Who's to say we even need an Avatar?_ I think that's a question that needs to be explored, and over the course of this epic, we're going to do just that.

For the record, does Katara really think of Korra as some kind of monster? Of course not. It's only a dream.

But then again, when is a dream ever just a dream?

In the next chapter, Mai and her friends plan conspiracy, and I pass the Bechdel Test. Stay tuned!


	40. MAI II

MAI

SEVERAL CENTURIES AGO, A MAN KNOWN AS _CHIN THE CONQUEROR _RAN WILD OVER THE EARTH KINGDOM. No one could stop him. The Fire Nation was in the midst of the _Sengoku Jidai_, the last and most vicious cycle of chaos and civil war that paved the way for the Tokugawa clan to rise to the Scarlet Throne. The Earth Emperor was a powerless old man. The Northern Water Tribe was in the midst of a brutal civil war. The Southern Water Tribes, as usual, were too busy squabbling amongst themselves to pay any attention. Even the Avatar seemed disinclined to get involved, huddling on her private fief on the Kyoshi Peninsula, soon to be an island.

In the midst of all of this horror and chaos, there was one people in the Earth Kingdom who resisted. These were the Hakka people, semi-nomadic clans that traveled the rivers and the coasts and bowed to no one. Chin persecuted them mercilessly, slaughtering thousands. Those who survived scattered, many coming to a Fire Nation too shattered to care. There, they rebuilt their communities, their clans. Even to this day, they maintained their unique culture and language. This language, as it so happens, is called _Kejia_, and long ago, a girl named Ty Lee taught it to her two best friends.

This was the language they spoke amongst themselves, always in the high, flighty voices of silly girls, so that, even when others overheard them, they thought nothing of it. After all, what could they possibly be talking about? Nothing important, judging from the sound of it. Sure, it's a strange language, but the Lady Mai was of impeccable birth, so, really, she could speak whatever language she wanted.

They were using Kejia that morning, the day of Lord Bei Fong's masquerade ball. There were, as usual, only the three of them in Mai's room. All servants had been banished, except, of course, for the Lady Mai's personal servant, that strange Shizuka girl; indeed, the girls were so self-sufficient that servants tended to just get in the way. As Mai stepped out of the bathroom and settled down in front of the vanity (which was beautiful, seeing as this was one of the best rooms in the best inn in town, not because they needed it, but because appearances were important), she couldn't help but marvel, not for the first time, at how much she had changed over the years. She could still vividly remember a time, not so long before, when she couldn't even brush her hair without a servant to help. Now, she didn't even let the handful of servants her parents had shackled her with pack her bags. Which, of course, made sense.

_Who knows what they might find…_

Mai had barely touched her rear to the stool before the vanity when Ty Lee burst into her face, the girl wearing a silly grin from ear-to-ear. Mai blinked, a bit taken aback, while Ty Lee just smiled and blinked right back at her. Mai let her eyes trail down and back, and was not at all surprised to discover that Ty lee was wearing nothing but her undergarments. Mai sighed, and finally let herself smile.

"Yes, Ty?"

Ty Lee grinned even wider, bringing her hands together in a clap that even Mai couldn't help but call _cute_. "Can I bush your hair? _Please?!_ You just have awesome hair and you haven't let me brush it in, like, _forever!"_

From the bed came a laugh. Mai looked in the mirror and saw Azula, still in her clothes from the night before, the only change being that her hair was down, sprawled all over the place. _Like the dirt from her boots_, Mai noted without annoyance. Azula had just lit a cigarette, and was puffing and swirling wine around in a glass as she said, "Come on, Ty, she let you brush her hair just last week. We _both_ did."

"_See?!" _Ty Lee groaned. "Not in _forever!_"

Mai did not bother to argue, just handed over her brush and tried not to wince at the resultant squeal. While Ty Lee went to work, she looked at Azula through the mirror and said, "Now, where were we?"

"We were," Azula said, eyes focused on some point on the wall, "on the subject of the Avatar, and my dissatisfaction with some of the things we learned last night."

"What were some of those things?" Ty lee asked. "My Putonghua failed me at one point, and I got pretty lost."

"Basically," Mai replied, wincing a bit as Ty Lee hit a tangle in the lower reaches of her hair, "it appears that the Avatar is not as far along in her training as we had hoped. So far, in the two years since she left the South, she has utterly mastered waterbending, but not much else. She has learned or picked up the basics of the other three disciplines, but that's just about it."

"And nevermind the fact that she has made little progress on mastering the Avatar State," Azula added, an annoyed growl in the back of her throat.

Ty Lee frowned, whether at the information or Mai's hair, Mai could not tell. "That's…that's going to be an issue…"

_"An issue?!" _Azula rolled her eyes, gulping down some wine. "It's a _huge fucking problem_, is what it is." Frustration bubbling up into her voice, she polished off the rest of her wine, pouring a new glass from the bottle on the nightstand as she ranted. "_Nevermind_ what it says about the Avatar as a student, _or_ what it says about her teachers. And _nevermind _the fact that it means our original plan is completely and utterly _fucked_. No, what _really _gets me worked up is that the only way to even have a _hope_ of ending the War within the next fucking _decade_ is to disregard centuries of tradition and teach the Avatar two different bending disciplines at the _same gods-damn time_." By way of punctuation, she smashed her cigarette out in the ashtray in her lap, angrily lighting another one.

Mai sighed, then turned her attention to Ty Lee, watching the wheels turn in the reflection of face in the mirror. Frowning, Ty Lee asked, "Why didn't Lobsang mention all of this sooner? I mean, you two," that being, Lobsang and Mai; direct communication with Azula would've been too dangerous for all involved, "were in pretty regular contact…"

Mai shrugged. "It's possible he didn't know the full picture. Even after Lobsang joined them, he had to break off before they reached the North, because Azula's idiot cousin became convinced that _Lobsang_ was the Avatar, which forced Lobsang to go off and run a diversion."

"Add on the fact that the Avatar seems to have developed a penchant for getting side-tracked and not listening to advice," Azula continued, glaring at her cigarette, "and we have a recipe for disaster."

Ty Lee nodded, brow furrowed, a corner of her bottom lip clasped lightly between her teeth. "I see." Her gaze turned intense, as she dealt with another tangle. "I take it our original plan of linger through the games, then pretend that the lovely _Shizuka_ here ran off with a boy and leave, is no longer valid?"

"Valid or not," Mai replied, "we can't linger past the end of the games, and we certainly can't linger here."

"Nor can I go back and stay with you guys," Azula added. "We've been in the Kingdom together six months now, and I'd rather not push our luck any further. _Someone_ is bound to recognize me."

Ty Lee burst into a happy smile. "Zuko could be the person to spot you!"

Azula flinched, from what her friends knew was not pain or anger but, rather, an overwhelming urge to run out the door and off into the world, not stopping until she could throw her arms around her brother. Neither of the other two girls said a word, concentrating on each other while Azula looked away, took a deep breath, then looked back to the wall with a sad smile on her face. "No," she said, voice very soft, "he has enough on his plate without having to worry about me off committing treason."

Ty Lee pouted and nodded, but then brightened again, opening her mouth only to clamp it shut again when Mai cut her off with a finger and saying, "Nuh uh. Don't even _think_ about going there, girlfriend. Stay focused!"

Ty Lee huffed. "_Fine_. You guys _never_ let me have any fun."

Mai and Azula shared a quick smile through the mirror. "We let you have _plenty_ of fun, Ty," was Azula's reply.

Ty Lee rolled her eyes. "_I guess so_. Still…what _is_ the plan, then?"

"Well," Mai said, "for tonight, the plan is to go to this blasted ball. At some point, we'll get a meeting with the Avatar and her guardians, and we'll go from there. And before you ask, Ty, no, you guys will have to sit this party out."

Ty lee sighed. "Yeah, I know; too risky all the way out here."

"But," Azula said, smiling, "I see no reason why we can't stake out a nice place to watch."

From the look on Ty Lee's face, one would have thought that it was her birthday. She swirled around Mai to the front, hurling herself into Mai's lap and shouting, _"Oh, can we, can we, __**please?!**_"

Mai rolled her eyes to the heavens, while Azula scoffed and said, "Hey, who's the princess here?"

"The Lady Arinori Mai, of course," Ty lee shot back, "seeing as I am but her common friend and you are but her personal servant."

Azula laughed. "Oh, yes, that's right. How could I ever forget?"

"Because you're a spoiled rotten little princess?"

Azula's face turned into an expression of grossly exaggerated offense. _"Little?!"_

It was an old joke, stemming from the days when Azula was the tallest, before Mai shot up until she was a few inches from looking Zuko in the eye. Still, for all that it was old, it was still good. It sounded good, tasted good, _felt good_. All three had long since learned that life rarely works as one plans it, but the latest vivid reminder was still unwelcome and unwanted. And, so, they indulged in the old routine, and giggled like little girls. Then Azula rolled off the bed, sat down beside Mai, and went to work on her friend's make-up while Ty Lee kept on with the hair.

And throughout, in a language no one in the area would fully understand, they plotted, planned, and schemed.

* * *

This chapter makes me happy. You know why? _Because I passed the Bechdel Test_. In case you don't know, the Bechdel Test is basically a test wherein the way to pass it is to have a scene involving at least two women who have a discussion about anything other than men. Sure, Zuko pops up, because it's Ty Lee we're talking about here, but Mai and Azula get things back on track fairly quickly. In other words, I like to think I passed. What do you guys think?

Though, now that I think about it...I'm pretty sure Korra and Katara passed the test sometime earlier in the story...I'd have to go back and check...

_Moving on_, the other reason this makes me happy is because I have _finally _justified the occasional Chinese name among Fire Nation characters. The Hakka are a real people who, at one point, were kind of the gypsies of Southeast Asia. Their brand of Chinese is actually called, well, _Hakka_, but it can also be called _Kejia, _which I think we can all agree is much cooler. So, yeah, Ty Lee is descended from these people who fled Chin the Conqueror and settled in the Fire Nation, which needed all the help it could get at the time. The Fire Nation's periodic periods of disorder are important, by the way; I'll explain why, later.

Also, why is Azula annoyed? Because, she may be good and have a soul, but she's still Azula. They were expecting - or at least _hoping _\- that Korra would've mostly mastered earthbending by now, so Azula could start right in on firebending. That she's behind where they want her to be is just a bit of an irritation.

In the next chapter, Zuko tells a story, and comes very close to getting out going to the ball. Stay tuned!


	41. ZUKO XII

ZUKO

IN THEORY, THE FIRST DAY OF DUTY IN GAOLING _SHOULD _HAVE BEEN EASY. Zuko's platoon had drawn responsibility for the stadium and its environs, and, seeing as the games had not yet started, there really should not have been much to do. Their primary responsibility was to protect the privacy of the fighters practicing inside. Most competed under assumed identities, which were a big part of their careers, and were very protective of such things. Thus, no one not directly involved in tournament business was to be allowed in. Zuko and his boys had looked forward to an easy day of keeping the gawkers and the fight-fixers and the occasional bored drunk out and away. Such a task should not have been difficult for trained, fully armed, professional soldiers.

_This was not the case._

First, there was the simple matter of it being the first full day in the city for boys, which meant that not only were they constantly getting lost, but that the details Zuko had to send out to find them tended to get turned around as well. And when he wasn't dealing with _that_ (_Seriously_, he growled to himself, _did __**nobody**__ bother to memorize the fucking map? Am I the only person who does that shit?_), he was dealing with the distressing reality that aforementioned _gawkers and fight-fixers and wandering drunks _was far more complicated than he had expected, especially when it turned out that more than a few of those _wandering drunks_ were the sons of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom notables in town for the games. There were the kids trying to sneak in (whose ingenuity, it appeared to Zuko, knew no bounds), athletes that were, by turns, drunk, high, angry, nervous, or all of the above, and a very pushy Fire Nation noble who was greatly offended that the prohibition on entering the stadium during practice sessions extended to him, and that Zuko, his own countryman, was the one preventing him from getting inside. And that wasn't even getting into the fact that there was far more crowd control to be handled than should have been necessary on a day when no fights were scheduled, which prompted Zuko to wonder if anyone in this city worked for a living.

Then, there were the fights. From drunken brawls to kids trying to distract the soldiers from their duties, it seemed to Zuko that every five minutes, he was helping the city watch pull angry young men off of each other. Though, he had to admit, the fighting led to the most exciting moment of the day, when two Fire Nation teenagers tried to talk Zuko into letting them into the stadium to fight an Agni Kai. When Zuko, naturally, refused, and rattled his _katana_ in its scabbard to make his point, they had stomped off, and, over a few rounds of fire whiskey, decided to hold their duel in the main square of the city. To the surprise of none, it turned out that those fire whiskeys were not their first drinks of the day; by the time it was all over, a rather hysterical local was sobbing over his wrecked cabbage stall, and the two teenagers were sitting, bruised and battered, in the city drunk tank, full of chi-blocking tea.

It didn't help that, when Zuko and his boys marched back into camp, Yukawa, leading his own boys out to take up night duty, decided to add insult to injury by winking and smiling and whistling a happy tune, as if to make sure Zuko knew just how happy he was to have avoided going to the evening's party. It was childish, Zuko knew, but he couldn't help but hope that, in the course of the evening, some drunk old woman kicked his friend in the balls.

Preferably, the same drunk old woman who had done that very thing to poor Private Minamoto, he of the not changing socks often enough.

In a charitable mood, the Captain had dinner brought to his irritable officers. Zuko found that he wasn't in the least bit hungry, so he handed it all over to the bottomless pit that was Mishima Ryu in exchange for first crack at the bathtub. There, Zuko had a nice, long soak, shaved (while dreaming wistfully of the days before he discovered what _five o'clock shadow _was), then, dressed in nothing but a towel, returned to his room, locked the door, and took a nap.

About an hour later, he was up again, a cigarette dangling from his lips, sitting on a chair in Toru's room, polishing his boots. For whatever reason, neither he nor Ryu had bothered to pack their polishing gear, while Toru, by complete accident, had managed to pack extra. Thus, it was Zuko on the chair and Toru on the bed, both polishing boots, while Ryu sat on the floor, shining up his sword belt and scabbard.

It was, Zuko had to admit, a very relaxing experience, a moment of calm that he had desperately needed. In what Zuko felt to be in the best slightly gay traditions of any all-male enterprise, none of the officers wore more than their underpants. Smoke hung thick and heavy in the air, defying the open window, and they were passing around a bottle of incredibly weak wine, bickering like little girls, as soldiers are wont to do.

It was into this charged atmosphere that Tsurukawa strolled. Zuko had no doubt that Tsurukawa had had no intention of doing anything more than popping his head in and saying _kon'nichiwa_, but that didn't stop him from pausing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb in his duty uniform, reveling in his newfound popularity.

Ryu started the bidding. As soon as Tsurukawa announced his presence, Ryu looked up, put on his most charming smile, and said, "Hey, buddy! How's it going?"

Tsurukawa smiled right back, shrugged, and said, "Worn out, but good. Also, _no_."

Ryu didn't miss a beat. He cocked his head, spread his hands, and said, in his warmest, most friendly voice, "Aww, come on, buddy, what makes you think I was going to ask anything?"

Tsurukawa rolled his eyes. "So, you just wanted to know about my day?"

Ryu beamed like a little puppy getting its belly rubbed. "Precisely! Also-"

"No."

Ryu huffed and started pouting at his sword belt. "Fine, be an asshole, then."

Tsurukawa furrowed his brows in thought. "I gotta ask, why so intent on skipping this fucking thing? I mean, I get Toru and Zuko; they probably had their gods-damn fill growing up. But you should be fucking _stoked_ for such a delightful opportunity to sneak into the ranks of high fucking society."

Ryu shrugged. "Eh…I've been there before. My father is all about climbing the ladder; it drives him crazy that he may be one of the richest men in the Fire Nation, but is still officially a commoner. Which, by the way, is precisely why I hate these high society parties: I may talk like a noble, be educated like a noble, be richer than most nobles, but I'm _not_ a noble." He looked up from his work, tilting his head to the side. "Besides, as a genuine commoner, _you_ should be the one _salivating_ at the chance to see how the other half lives."

Tsurukawa laughed, not least because it was true. Sure, his father may have been a decorated war hero, which was how he had gotten into the Royal Engineering Academy, but he was still of solid peasant stock. Zuko knew it was no exaggeration when the man said that, even on a soldier's salary, he was still the richest person in his entire (_disturbingly massive_, to Zuko's high-born eyes) family.

So, Zuko felt, Ryu had a point, just as Tsurukawa had a reply:

"Fuck that! Have you ever been to a peasant party? A few of those, and you'll _never_ want to go anywhere you need a gods-damn fucking dress uniform to so much as look at the shitter."

Ryu bowed his head, admitting defeat. "Fine, you win."

Tsurukawa shrugged. "Hey, I'd try in your shoes. Buy you a drink when we get back to the Regiment?"

Ryu popped an eyebrow. "Two drinks…?"

Tsurukawa sighed. "_Fine_. You're lucky I have a conscience." Ryu pumped a triumphant fist in the air (free drinks, Zuko had no doubt, were probably what he was hoping to weasel his way into in the first place), while Tsurukawa turned his gaze to Toru. "So, what's your strategy? Bribery?"

Toru shook his head. "Nah. Honestly, I hadn't thought about it much more than Ryu did, so I'll just take my lumps."

Tsurukawa nodded. "To be truthful, if I had to bet money on any of you guys talking me into it, I'd bet on you."

Toru pointed at me. "Even over Zuko?"

"Meh, you're prettier."

"_Excuse me?_" Zuko said, finally joining in. "I beg to differ. I obviously have _much_ better abs than Toru."

"Well," Tsurukawa admitted, "I'm sure Toru's sister would agree…"

"She _has_ seen them, from what I hear," Ryu pointed out.

Tsurukawa rounded on Toru. "No shit? That's not just a bad joke between you two?"

Toru shrugged. "When we were sixteen, Zuko came and spent the summer with my family. As for what happened between him and Chieko," his twin sister, "well…the less I know, the better."

Tsurukawa chuckled. "Fair enough. So, Zuko, what do you have? Bribes? Blackmail? Pouting? Toru's move of pretending like he doesn't care?"

Zuko shook his head, then stopped. All watched as he raised a hand to his mouth. There, he took his cigarette, tapped some ash off, then put it back. The wine, having come to him, got a sip lighter. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and then, using the same tone one would use for the weather, said, "Have I ever told you about the last time I spoke to my uncle?"

Tsurukawa was completely lost. Shaking his head, he muttered, "You mean, you know…_the fucking Fire Lord?_"

Zuko nodded, still looking utterly relaxed and bored. "Yes, _His Majesty Fire Lord Iroh_."

They all bowed their heads for a brief moment of silence, because old habits die hard, and then, upon the raising of said heads, Tsurukawa said, "No, as a matter of fact, you have not."

Zuko nodded. "Right on." He took a breath, and tried not to burst into hysterics at the looks of admiration shining from the eyes of Toru and Ryu. He swallowed the laughter, and pressed on:

"So, for the first month after my father burned me, I was pretty much _checked out_, so to speak. I was on all kinds of painkilling concoctions, which merely dulled the pain, if I'm honest. Even after I made them stop giving me drugs, I was pretty out of it. However, by the end of the second month, I was on the mend, _so to speak. _I was still in a weird headspace, though. Other than my sister sneaking in from time-to-time, no one came to see me. I was totally isolated. I had no idea what was going on, and only a vague idea of what had even _happened. _Then, one day, out of the blue, one of the Royal Guard walks in. He checks the room from top-to-bottom, makes one of the orderlies pick me up while he checks the bed, then leaves. Next thing I know, my uncle walks in, smiles, and says, _Hello, nephew_."

He paused to work at a particularly stubborn bit of dirt on his boot, while Ryu turned to the others and asked, "Does that ever stop being weird, how he can call the freaking Fire Lord _uncle?_"

Toru laughed. "I've known him for eight years, and I'm still not used to it."

Ryu nodded. "Fun times."

Meanwhile, Zuko pressed on. "Anyways, to say that I was surprised would be a massive understatement. I dropped to my knees and pressed my forehead to the ground. This was a bad idea; I was pretty shaky getting up, though if my uncle noticed how I swayed while my head spun, he didn't show it.

"After I got over the initial shock, I managed to say, _Good day, uncle._

"He continued to smile his usual calm, serene little smile. He said, _I'm sure you have many questions._

"I admitted that I did. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"He asked me to withhold them until he had finished talking. He asked if I understood. When I nodded, he dropped the bomb.

"Basically, for my gross disobedience to my father, and at my father's demand, I was to be exiled from the Fire Nation. However, because my uncle sympathized with my plight, I had a choice of exiles, either to the Civil Service or the military. Either way, I would never see the Fire Nation again, or if I did, it would be so far in the future as to make no difference. Further, I was no longer a prince, and I was to formally renounce my right to the succession at the earliest opportunity. He then asked me if I understood. I nodded. He asked me if I had any questions. I had only one:

"_Why?_

"You see, it wasn't the _punishment_ I objected to. I _wanted_ to go into the military, after all, I _wanted_ to serve on the frontlines, and it had been a long time since I had wanted to be a prince. It was the permanence of it, the way any element of choice had been stripped away, the single fact that, live or die, I would _never_ be going home, that struck me so hard. And, on top of all of this, my father would suffer _nothing? _That hurt."

Zuko looked then to Tsurukawa, who had moved to the bed, spellbound, ignoring Toru's barely suppressed smiles and Ryu's mixture of shock and admiration. "Tell me, Tsurukawa," he said, "did you ever have to study the Air Nomad philosophy of _Zen?_"

Tsurukawa shook his head. "Can't say that I have."

Zuko laughed. "_Lucky_. Master Piandao at the Academy was big on it." Ryu and Toru nodded in sympathy. "So, for the record, is my uncle. Zen, as it happens, is big on these stories that _seem _to make no sense, and my uncle is basically the greatest living repository of such stories. In reply to my question of _why_, my uncle took a breath, and didn't just launch into a Zen story, but one of the most infamously irritating examples of Zen thought exercise:

"Once, at the Northern Air Temple, two young novices from two different dormitories found a beautiful, adorable little kitten. Both wanted to take it back to their dorms, and neither would agree to give it up, nor could they agree on how to share it. The dispute escalated, and soon, the novices from both dorms were on the point of violence. Annoyed, the monk in charge of the novices, a man named Nansen, ordered a meeting of the two factions. When the dispute simply got _worse_, Nansen, without a word, stood up, took the kitten in his hands, and snapped its neck. Then, still without speaking, he turned on his heel and left. Later, another monk, a man named Chosu, came in. Nansen asked Chosu what he thought about his actions. Without a word, Chosu took off his sandals, put them on his head, and left. Nansen, rather than get angry, burst into laughter. The End.

"The tale done, my uncle bowed lightly, sighed, patted me on the shoulder, and left. And _that_ was the last time I ever spoke to, or even saw, my uncle."

Zuko let silence fall. Ryu was shaking his head in wonder, while Toru was struggling to keep a straight face. For his part, Tsurukawa seemed completely stunned and taken in. He took a deep breath, let it out, then said, "So…I gotta ask…what the holy ever-living _fuck_ did he mean by all of that?"

Zuko shrugged, and told the first lie of the conversation: "Honestly, I haven't the faintest gods-damn idea."

Tsurukawa nodded. "Alright…so, was that all ture?"

"Every word." Which was true, Zuko thought, except for the part about not understanding his uncle's point.

"Damn…I'm sorry, man."

"Me, too."

"I'm still not taking your place at the ball."

"Well, fuck."

_So close._

* * *

It is quite possible that that last exchange there is one of my favorite things among the stuff that I've written. It's just..._so perfect, you guys._

For those playing the home game, the thought problem that Zuko relates is an actual thing. It's called _Nansen Kills a Kitten_, and I learned of it from the book _The Temple of the Golden Pavilion_, by Yukio Mishima. It's an awesome, excellent book, and if you enjoy Japanese literature, I highly recommend that you pick it up. It's pretty easy to find; there's always at least one or two at any Half-Price Books, and it pops up a lot in secondhand bookstores. _Or, _I guess, you could just order it on Amazon, but where's the fun in that? _None, that's what._

So, that's that! In the next chapter, our favorite lackey starts the ball rolling, and we meet character I've never written before. Stay tuned!


	42. THE LACKEY II

THE LACKEY

BY A CROSSROADS IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, THERE IS AN INN TO WHICH NO SANE, EVEN SOMEWHAT RESPECTABLE PERSON WOULD GO. Indeed, no sane, respectable person would even find themselves in a position to so much as _look _at the place. It was in the woods, in an area several miles from the nearest civilization, in a place that always seemed to be dark, even on the brightest of days. The building itself had a dark, decayed quality, with warped shutters for windows and a front door that was always swaying in the wind, even when there was none. Faint torchlight flickered from inside, and, no matter what time of day, there was an impossibly large, burly man dozing on a stool by the front door. His big arms, rippling with corded muscles, were covered in Triad tattoos, and one could not help but feel that the massive club resting in his lap was as much for show as for anything else. To the untrained eye, the man – who had no name anyone knew – was the picture of harmless indolence. The trained eye, however, would instantly see that this man was barely a man, and was unfathomably dangerous. Indeed, one would have to be very quick to notice that his eyes opened, very slightly, to examine every person who entered and exited. It is, one hopes, unnecessary to describe what happens to those who do not pass inspection.

Most did, though, since why else would they be here? Like the man entering the tavern right now; he barely even merited one glance, much less two. He was an unassuming man, with that unique gait that career criminals have, the one designed to be both as invisible and intimidating as possible. He was dressed in old, threadbare Earth Kingdom clothes, right down to the peasant's hat he tilted back as he entered. His boots were old and patched and caked in only the gods knew what, and the dagger at his belt spoke of hard use. He himself looked dirty and unkempt, with stubble on his cheeks and a rancid, hand-rolled cigarette clamped between his teeth. He looked utterly indistinguishable from any other criminal of the world, from any nation. He would fit into the stews of any city, and vanish from them just as easily.

When he had left the Crown Prince's quarters, he had been called Kojima. When he left the camp of the Ninety-Fourth, he had been Corporal Kashiwagi, grumbling about the spoiled royal's whims and errands and trading good-natured jibes with the sentries. If asked now, he would give no name. If pressed, he would reluctantly admit to being Gongsun Zan, of nowhere in particular, and his mother was a whore, so why do you _think_ he looks part Fire Nation? Of course, no one in the tavern that made up the ground floor of the inn would bother to ask such questions, and if they did, they would assume that he was lying.

Every individual there was, after all, not part of a world known for its _honesty._

The lackey now known as _Gongsun_ stopped in the doorway, letting the door slam shut behind him. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, letting the atmosphere of the place seep into him. It was terribly warm, the air a fog of tobacco smoke and a riot of scents ranging from cheap liquor to stale piss to dried sweat. Gongsun opened his eyes and swept them over the room. If anyone noticed him, they decided that he was looking for someone else, and then promptly forgot about him.

Gongsun spotted who he was looking for immediately, heavily engaged in a lively game of cards. Gongsun did not go to this person, though; he was a man who knew his protocol, and the bottom of society has just as many rules as the top, and the consequences for violating them are just as dire. Having found this person, Gongsun looked around a bit more, shrugged, and stomped over to the bar. There, he heaved himself onto a creaking stool, stubbed out his cigarette, rolled and lit a new one, then fished in his pocket, bringing out his hand to throw a few silver _sen_ coins on the bartop. Without a pause, the bartender scooped them up, eyeballed them, then tossed them in the cashbox and said, "What'll it be?"

Gongsun shrugged, as if it didn't matter, and when he spoke, it was in the same language as the bartender, a local, gutter variety of Guangzhou. "Fire Whiskey, if you got it."

The bartender nodded, grabbed a bottle without a label, and poured three fingers' worth into a dirty glass. Gongsun downed it without hesitation, shrugged once more, then threw some more coins on the counter, international sign for another. The bartender obliged, and, when that glass half-vanished in one gulp, asked, "Want the bottle?"

Gongsun contemplated the question, an indifferent expression on his face, his eyes half-closed, bored. A few moments passed, before he shrugged – the biggest one yet – and tossed about thirty _yen_ in gold coins on the bar. The bartender nodded, set the bottle down, scooped up the coins, and walked away.

Gongsun then sat, and drank, and smoked. He started at the wall and looked for all the world like the most bored man in existence. What was actually going on behind those ice cold eyes, of course, only he could say for sure.

Suddenly, the bartender was back. He leaned forward, a greedy gleam in his eyes. "So, nothing else I can get you?"

Gongsun shrugged, to the bartender's barely concealed irritation; it seemed to him that shrugging was the man's primary method of communication. The bartender decided to ignore it, though; the man had gold, real, Fire Nation gold, and that was all that mattered.

Finally, Gongsun spoke. "I'm looking for a woman."

The bartender broke into a smile. "Well, you're in luck; women we have in abundance." He pointed over to a corner, where heavily painted girls of indeterminate age tried their best to not look bored. "You can have your pick, or," he continued, jerking his thumb at the wall behind him, "if you feel like spending a bit more, we keep the pretty ones in back. We even have a few boys, too, if you'd prefer that…" He trailed off, a suggestive leer on his face, while Gongsun nodded, pursing his lips in thought.

Thought concluded, he sighed. "Tempting, but…that's not what I'm talking about. I'm looking for a particular woman, tall, dark hair, big tattoo on her left shoulder, rides a butt-ugly _shirshu_…can't quite remember her name, though…" He paused, and just like that, there was a hundred _yen_ worth of gold on the bartop. It vanished before it even had time to ring from the impact, while Gongsun finished his thought with, "…you probably know."

The bartender shook his head, looking sad. "I'm afraid I don't…" This he said while neither man paid the slightest bit of attention to the fact that this very woman was not only in plain sight, but was loudly announcing her latest victory at the card game in the very center of the room. "Still…I might be able to introduce you to someone who does…"

Gongsun shrugged. "Such is the way of things. If this person could help me, though, I would, of course, be properly appreciative."

The bartender shrugged right back. "Meh, we'll see. Enjoy your whiskey." And, with that, he was gone.

Two hours passed. What time it was, no one knew, nor cared. At some point, Gongsun ordered food, largely by sticking up a hand and saying that he was hungry. What he ate was barely recognizable as, well, _anything_, but it was, judging from the man's appreciative grunts, not lacking in the taste department. More time passed, and then, there came a tap on Gongsun's shoulder. He turned to face a bored looking young man covered in Triad tattoos. Without waiting, the man turned on his heel, and Gongsun grabbed the bottle (of which a good third remained) and followed. In total silence, the two men went up some stairs behind the bar, down a hallway (stepping around a man enjoying himself with one of the painted ladies from downstairs up against a wall), around a corner, down another hallway, until they stopped at a door. The guide knocked a few times, then stuck his hands in his pockets and headed back for the bar. Meanwhile, before Gongsun, the door opened, and Gongsun, pausing to toss a cigarette to the floor and grind it out with the heel of his boot, stepped through.

The door slammed shut behind him, but he didn't flinch. He didn't even bother to notice the three men lurking in the corners. No, his eyes bored straight ahead, honing in on a rickety little table. On the table was an over-flowing ashtray, a bottle of whiskey, two grimy glasses, and a pair of dirty boots on feet connected to legs that led to the very woman Gongsun was looking for. Allowing himself a thin smile, Gongsun went right up to the table, plopped down on the free chair, and poured his own whiskey into one of the glasses. He drank, sighed, and said, "Hello, Jun."

The woman named Jun was exactly as he had described her downstairs, tall and strong with a tattoo on her upper left arm. Gongsun had left out that she was also very pretty, but then again, all who knew her knew that the looks were immaterial. In the shadows, the woman named Jun smiled, teeth flashing in the flickering light of a single candle in a corner.

"Hello, good sir," she drawled, doing nothing to hide the predatory glitter in her eyes. "Though, I suppose _sir_ isn't the right word."

Gongsun shrugged. "Who's to say it isn't? All kinds of people are calling themselves lords these days."

Jun laughed. "True…and some actually _are _lords, though they don't know it." A pause, and then she continued, in a lightly mocking tone. "Speaking of which…what is it today, old friend? Are we Zhuge, Liu, Mushi? Or maybe Sawa, Asada, or Nishikori…it's so hard to keep track. You know," here, she lifted her feet off the table, letting the front legs of her chair hit the floor with a loud _thunk _as she crossed her arms and settled her elbows on the table, her face coming fully into the half-light, "just the other day, I heard someone describe a man like you, only, his name was _Kojima_, and he was Crown Prince Yoshihito's right-hand man."

Gongsun (or _Liu _or _Sawa_) laughed, good and hard. "I'd heard the same thing…did you believe it?"

Jun shrugged as she poured herself a glass from her own bottle. "With you? I believe everything and nothing." She downed her glass, poured another, then leaned back in her chair. She snapped her fingers, and one of her lackeys appeared. She took a proffered cigarette, and the man revealed himself as a firebender when he lit it with a snap of his fingers. The man disappeared, leaving Gongsun (or _Zhuge _or _Asada_) to light his own. Both took contemplative puffs and sips, before Jun broke the silence.

"So, what do you want?"

When Gongsun had stepped into the room, he had had a pack slung over his shoulder. This pack had not been searched or taken from him, as Jun knew better than to pretend that taking away the man's toys would render him any less of a threat. This pack Gongsun had instead hurled onto the floor by his chair. He returned to the pack now, rummaging around until, still not having spoken, he pulled out a bag and tossed it onto the table. It produced a musical _clinking_ melody. As he settled back into his chair, the bag vanished. From the shadows came the sound of fingers carefully sifting coins, until the response came.

"It's gold, Jun."

Jun nodded, eyes on Gongsun. "Of course it's gold, you dolt. What kind?"

"Fire Nation, 100-_yen_ coins. And it's real."

Jun smiled. "Naturally." She took a sip of her whiskey. "I take it there's more?"

Gongsun smiled back. "I have ten-thousand _yen_ with me. There's another forty-thousand stashed not far from here if you take the job, fifty more if you succeed."

"Plus expenses?"

Gongsun bowed his head. "Plus expenses."

Jun rolled the numbers around in her head. "That's…a lot, especially since I'll gouge you for at _least_ fifty-thousand more."

Gongsun laughed. "I should hope so! I wouldn't trust you otherwise!"

Jun shrugged. "Hey, I have a reputation to keep." Her smile faded, and in its place was suspicion. "I would be remiss, though, if I didn't point out that it's far more than you've ever paid me before."

"By several orders of magnitude," Gongsun admitted.

"And how much of this is hush money?"

Gongsun chuckled. "None of it, I should imagine, since I have no doubt that you'll be able to squeeze my employer for _years_ to come."

Jun popped an eyebrow. "You're not a fan of this job, are you."

Gongsun shrugged (or was it _Kojima_, or the man _behind_ Kojima?). "Personally, I view it as a needless expense and an unnecessary risk, but what can I do? We all have our masters. Even _you_ must occasionally bow to the big Triad bosses in Omashu."

Jun scoffed. "Oh, the Triads I can deal with. It's the Yakuza who're moving in from the Fire Nation that irk me."

"Such is life. The only constant is change."

"That, and my love for fine wine, nubile beauties, and strapping young boys, and, well, money _is_ money…will there be a lot of heat?"

"Not if you do it right."

"I take it I'll have you tagging along?"

"Afraid so."

"Under what name?"

"Whatever you feel like calling me."

"Great, because you're Ping now."

"So it goes."

"Indeed…so, what's the job?"

"Political assassination, of course."

There was a long pause, and then Jun's smile turned from _predatory_ to _delighted._

"Oh," she said, voice purring, "this I just _have_ to see."

Ping raised a glass.

"I thought you would."

* * *

Hey, guys, it's _Jun! _Jun always seemed outrageously sketchy to me. The show couldn't get too far into that, but you know who can? _Me! _So, here we are!

I'm a bit worried. How about you guys? _Dun dun DUUUUUUUUUUUN!_

For those playing the home game, _sen _are what the Japanese Yen is divided up into, though they don't really mint _sen _coins anymore. The Fire Nation is Japanese, and uses the _yen_, and because they rule the world, everyone uses the _yen_. Kind of irritating for them, when you think about it. Also, the Triads are basically the Chinese form of organized crime, them and the Tongs. Same goes for the Yakuza when it comes to Japan, though there are enough anime nuts among my fans to already know that.

Anyways, that's all for today! I think that's a suitable cliffhanger to leave you on! In the next chapter, Katara and Sokka get ready for the big ball, and bond. Stay tuned!


	43. KATARA XI

KATARA

GENDER STEREOTYPES ASSUME THAT IT WILL ALWAYS BE THE _WOMAN_ WHO WILL TAKE THE LONGEST TIME TO GET READY. These assumptions are very old, very ingrained, and, like most stereotypes, possess at least a kernel of truth. However, in the case of the siblings Katara and Sokka, such assumptions, while amusing to imagine, would be hysterically wrong.

Katara mused on these things while she watched her brother primp. It was a fascinating process, one that was no different from the one he went through before every major event and celebration back home. She was seated in a corner of the room, carefully sipping wine so as to not muss her make-up (of which there was little, as she didn't need much) or her dress. She had been ready for at _least_ an hour, and yet, here she was, watching her brother adjust his wolf-tail for at _least_ the hundredth time.

It all put her in mind of better days, _happier days_. To think of those days filled her with sadness, but it also filled her with hope. To think of a time before the quest, when the word _Avatar_ meant nothing to her, when he clan was her life and her life was her clan, to imagine the days before her father ushered her into the presence of a thirteen-year-old girl whose face seemed torn between equal parts terror and excitement, before her and her brother knelt before a shaman and vowed to protect the Avatar with their lives…it made her feel hope that those days might return. She closed her eyes, listened to the buzz of the mansion around her, felt the pulse of the water in a thousand bowls and glasses, sensed the pull of the rising moon and the flow of a nearby stream. She closed her eyes, and allowed herself to dream of the day when she could just be _Katara_ again, a normal young woman who thought not of the horrors that lurked in the world.

_When, if she liked a boy, she could stay put and find out what made him tick, and if he liked her back…_

"Hey, you alright?"

Her brother's voice pulled her out of her daydreams. She opened her eyes, and saw the worried look on his face. She smiled, and felt better in that moment then she had in far too long.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just…far away…"

He smiled. It was a brittle smile, the only kind he seemed capable of these days, and it broke her heart. It made her want to leap up and throw her arms around him, dress be damned. "You know" he said, turning back to the mirror, "there seems to be a lot of that going around these days."

She cocked her head to one side. "How do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Not much, other than it's an issue I've been having, too. Heh…you know how I ended up wandering around town with Korra yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"Well, the same thing happened, to both of us, it seemed. My mind kept wandering off, and hers did, too."

"Where were your minds wandering off to?"

"Anywhere, really, anywhere that wasn't the North. At least, mine was, and I did my best to keep hers on that track, too."

She nodded and sipped her wine. An unspoken word hung in the air, like a sword dangling over their heads. _Yue_. This word had hung over them for months now, and showed no signs of going away. Rather than acknowledge it, though, she decided to change the subject before it even got started. "So, how's Korra? Now that you've decided to start speaking to her again."

Another shrug. "She _seems_ okay, or, at least, as okay as one could expect. She's still pretty rattled, but…_yeah_." His face twisted into a pained expression, and he sighed. "And, because I know what you want to hear, I'm going to go ahead and get it out of the way: _You were right_."

She looked away, eyes drifting to a tree branch that bounced in a light breeze outside the window. "Oh, is that so? What could I _possibly_ have been right about?"

She didn't have to see the eye roll to know it was there. "Oh, go blow it out your ass, sis. Point is, you were right. I just needed to let some things go and start talking to her again. It's the only way she's ever going to stop punishing herself."

Katara bit down on a triumphant smirk. "Well…as long as you admit that I'm right…"

"Seriously, kiss my ass." She giggled, and he concentrated on his image in the mirror, performing a few more subtle movements, before turning around to face her. His chin went up, his shoulders went back, and the smile on his face was cocky and self-assured, just like old times. "So, back to more important matters, how do I look?"

Dark thoughts lingered at the edges of her mind, heralded by the phrase, _Just like your first date with Yue. You were meeting her in the middle of the night, in disguise, and yet you still spent a solid two hours primping yourself. _She shook the thoughts away, tossing them into the back of her mind and locking the door in their faces. _Not tonight_, she promised herself. _Tonight, I'm going to have some gods-damn __**fun.**_ She honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd well and truly _relaxed_, and she intended to break that streak tonight.

All that done, she gave her brother an appraising once-over. "You know, brother, I have to admit that you look quite handsome. One could _almost_ believe that you're an adult."

He beamed. "Why, thank you! It's an illusion I strive for every day." He gave her his own inspection, and his grin actually made an attempt to reach his eyes. "And, might I say, you look rather stunning, like a girl, almost."

She flipped her hair in the most dramatic fashion possible. "Why, _duh_," she said, in a flippant, airheaded tone, "I'm _me_, after all. How else could I look?"

He rolled his eyes. "_There's _my sister."

She giggled. "I try to hide in plain sight."

He sighed, and his expression turned soft and warm. "Hey, sis? I love you, you know that, right?"

She returned the smile, and stubbornly resisted the tears that budded in the corners of her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I love you, too, you big goof."

He chuckled, and gave her a mocking bow. She laughed, _a real laugh_, then polished off her glass and set it aside. She extended a hand, and he took it, helping her to her feet. She returned his bow with a mocking little curtsy of her own, then snatched their masks off a table. She handed one to him, keeping the other for herself. She ran her hands down her dress, and resisted the urge to do a little spin. "So," she said, "ready?"

He grimaced at the door. "As ready as I'll ever be. You?"

"I'm ready to have some fucking fun, is what I am. I fully intend to dance the night away."

"Good; just save one for me."

"I'll see what I can do."

He pursed his lips, as if in thought, and she waited, watching the wheels turn. "You know what I'm going to do?"

She rolled her eyes. "Only the gods know what you're going to do, Sokka."

He nodded. "True, true, but still…I'm going to pull one of those officers aside – they're bound to be there – and ask about Zuko."

She fought off the blush, and hoped for once that her brother couldn't see right through her. "And why would you do that?"

His reply came largely in the form of a wink. "I have my reasons."

She bit her lip, heedless of the lipstick. "You don't think he's here, do you?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? Point is, you won't ask, so I will."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Because your Nihongo is _so_ good."

He laughed. "Hey, I'll just drunkenly slur in Inuktitut at them, and, eventually, we'll find some common ground. It is," he continued, striking a confident pose, "after all, my patented intelligence-gathering system, and it's yet to fail me."

All she could do was shake her head and smile. "You're crazy, Sokka. You know that, right?"

The grin he adopted could only be described as _proud_. "Fuck yeah, I am. Crazy _awesome_."

They laughed about that all the way out the door and down the hall.

* * *

I seriously love these two. You guys know that? Especially when they're having their little bro/sis moments. And plus, _Sokka the Smartass _is always fun to write.

Not much else to say about this chapter. How about we just move right along?

In the next chapter, Korra goes for a run across the roof, and receives a most unwelcome visitor. Stay tuned!


	44. KORRA II

KORRA

LOBSANG, KORRA DECIDED, AS SHE SNUCK HER WAY THROUGH THE NOOKS AND CRANNIES OF THE MANSION, REALLY WAS A WELLSPRING OF GOOD ADVICE. It was ridiculous, how put-together the man seemed to be. He had expertly distracted her from the preparations for a ball it was simply too dangerous for her to attend (_not,_ to be perfectly honest, _that she even wanted to go in the first place_), running around the back corners of the estate, practicing rudimentary airbending. When it finally came time to retire to their rooms, he had continued rattling off the good advice. _Meditate_, he had said. _Or_, he continued, throwing in a wink, _if that seems too boring, go out and practice your bending. I'm sure the guards and soldiers crawling over the estate won't present much of a challenge. Or take a nap, be lazy, read a book, explore the estate. Don't worry about the party or your friends. Clear your mind, and calm the raging torrents within. _He had even offered to stand in for Katara for a reading lesson, which Korra could not help but think would be a much more enjoyable way to experience such things.

What was more, not only was it all good advice, _she knew it_. She really should follow his lead; it might even do her some good. But the thing was, meditation was just such a freaking _bore_, and the increased security on the estate would probably be just tight enough to be annoying, and as for reading? _Blah. _Her education had started only two years before (her parents had been too poor to pay for lessons in the clan's main town, and besides, what did poor herders need with learning?), and even now, she was _far_ behind where she should be. The one Inuktitut book she had found was simply too complex for her level. It was full of flowery pose and all the weird words and spellings they used in the North, and it gave her a headache. So she had tossed it aside, given Lobsang's words a little more thought, and decided, well…

_Screw it._

She was approaching the roof now, having just clambered out of a window and onto a ledge. She paused there, turning into the wind and closing her eyes. The sun was sinking beneath the horizon; she could feel it simmering in her blood. In fact, she could feel…well…_everything_. Every little lesson in a bending art, no matter how small and minor, opened up one more sliver of her awareness. When it rained, she could feel the drops on windows like moisture on her skin. When her feet touched the ground, she could feel the bones of the earth like the tendons of her muscles. And on a clear summer day, she could feel the heat of the sun boiling in her veins.

It was a blessing, she knew; no one currently alive could claim to be as purely _alive_ as she was, every single moment of every single day. But it was a curse, too; she knew this now, had known it every single second since the day when a god, a literal, actual _god_, had slipped beneath her skin and nearly torn her soul to shreds.

Yes, it was all a blessing, but also a curse, because being _The Only One_ meant that she had no one to talk to.

She opened her eyes. The sky was clear, the night soft and cool. The horizon was a riot of brilliant color. Down below, torches flickered, lining the path up to the mansion. Voices filtered up to her; the jewels and finery of the guests glittered in the gathering darkness. For a moment, a childish impulse seized her. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen, if she reached out and made all of those torches snuff out at once. She had a nice chuckle at the thought of the looks on the guests' faces, a giggle at the sound of alarm in a dozen languages, laughed right up until she imagined Katara's face looming up before her, twisted with rage. She shuddered at that, and, impulse entertained, turned her back on the sun and headed up and across the roof.

She moved fast and light, barely even making contact with the shingles under her feet. Her goal was one of the skylights that looked down at what would be the dance floor. If all went well, she would quietly open the window there and slip in, using a controlled burst of airbending (about the best she could manage) to come to rest among the beams that arched over the wide banquet hall below. From there, she could watch, listen to the music, enjoy the pomp and the circumstance without having to deal with the crush of humanity or the social graces or the awkward lies or the strange things that would happen when the wine truly began to flow.

And hey, even if she couldn't get in through the window, the only child of a poor herder from the bottom of the world would have a perfect spot from which to watch the stars slide across the night sky.

She stopped. She had reached the skylight. Through the glass, she could see the guests filtering into the hall. The faint strains of gentle music floated up to her, tunes she didn't recognize. Sweat cooled on her brow; a light cloak was slung over her shoulder, but she hadn't felt the need to use it yet. She bent down and examined the window, smiling in triumph. One side was mounted on hinges; no doubt the skylights were opened from time-to-time to air the mansion out. About ten feet down from the window, she could even see her vantage point, a wide beam with another thick beam coming down to meet it, the perfect spot to people-watch from. She rubbed her hands together, licking her lips as she formulated how to get the window open without attracting attention. Not that attracting attention would be _bad_; anyone who saw her would assume she was some bored servant's kid and ignore her, and if Katara or Sokka saw her, they'd probably wave and smile. Still, there was no reason she couldn't have any fun, right? That was what Katara had told her, Katara and Sokka and Lobsang, and sure, even if the fun was only in her head…

_**WRONG!**_

The voice came from nowhere. It crashed in her skull. Frightened, she almost toppled off the roof and into the gathering darkness below. She waved her arms, biting her tongue to keep from shouting. The world swayed and spun and finally settled. Sweat broke out anew all over her body. She regained her balance, and sat down on the roof, trembling like a leaf. She wiped her brow, looking about the roof, unable to see a soul.

"Who's there?" she asked in Guangzhou. "Show yourself…if you don't mind…" She looked around some more, saw nothing. "Really, it's cool, I was just going to watch the party, you can come join me if you want…"

There was no answer. She took a deep breath, let it out, her heart finally settling as her wits returned to her. The voice, she realized, had been in Nihongo, and vaguely familiar. _Why? Where have I heard that voice before? _The answer struck her right as the voice returned, dripping with irritation and disdain.

_You know damn well where, __**girl.**_

She flinched. She didn't want to look up, but she did. She found exactly what she was expecting to find, even if she had no desire to find it. There before her, looming like a vengeful spirit, was…well…_just that. _The form was tall and broad-shouldered, hair in a phoenix-tail and ornate robes glinting purple, the result of red mixed with a dull blue glow. The beard was long and white, and the eyes were fierce and angry and cold.

Korra didn't hesitate. She stood, shaking her head, arms outstretched, palms spread. "Oh, no," she said, in angry Nihongo, "we're not doing this tonight, Roku. Okay? I've had a good day, I'm in a good mood, I'm _happy_ for the first time since Zhao happened, so if you don't mind, I'd rather not deal with social calls from bored former Avatars."

Avatar Roku's eyes narrowed. "I don't make social calls, _girl._"

It was hard not to roll her eyes at the _girl_, but Korra managed, mostly because experience had taught her not to bother. Instead, she shrugged. "Yeah, I know…" She looked around, and couldn't help but feel exposed and abused. _Aang did warn me… _"Look…_fine_, I guess I don't have much of a choice. Just…please tell me we're in the Spirit World or something, and no one can see you."

Roku continued to glare; if anything, he glared _harder_. "No, we're in your mind; only you can see or hear me."

"Because that's _so_ much better."

Roku's eyes flared. "What was _that?_"

"Nothing," she said quickly. She took a deep, calming breath. _Or did she? _The mechanics of these things were still mysteries to her. "Anyways…what do you want this time?"

The reality of being in touch with one's past lives was one of the aspects of being the Avatar that Korra found the hardest to deal with. Theoretically, they should all have been equally available to her, all upwards of five-hundred or so of them. In reality, some seemed to be stronger and some seemed to be weaker, and the more recent the Avatar, the easier to speak to, except for Aang, for some reason, for reasons no one had explained to her.

None of which, for the record, made the least bit of sense to Korra.

Roku's scowl grew. Every time Korra thought the old crank couldn't get any angrier, he proved her wrong. _Seriously_, she thought, _can we get Yangchen in here? At least she knows some good jokes. _

"That, _girl_," he said, "should be obvious."

She looked away. "You all want me to stop avoiding you." For some reason she couldn't quite put her finger on, she decided to not bring up the subject of Aang.

Roku, meanwhile, was nodding. "Precisely."

Korra sighed. "Yeah…hey…while I've got you here…how did you get here in the first place? No one seems able to explain how you guys can call on me, and don't have to wait for me to call on you."

Roku did something that could only be called a _huff_. "You are the Avatar, _girl_. You are the bridge between this world and that of the gods and the spirits. It is a two-way road; you cannot just turn it on and off like a faucet." He paused, and his scowl grew fiercer. "All of which you would, of course, _know_, if you would work harder at your education."

_Or if I wasn't just some barely literate barbarian_, she thought, but did not say. No matter how much she tried to avoid it, that was the impression she always got from Roku. She couldn't help but feel that he was bitterly disappointed that she was from the supposedly barbaric South, rather than the _civilized_ North. She would never forget his shock when he realized just how low she had been born. Because, at the end of the day, Roku, for all of his virtues, was still the scion of Fire Nation nobility.

"Do you have anything to say, _girl?_"

Korra shrugged. _Gods, you really like making me sympathize with Sozin, don't you? _"What do you want me to say?"

"Will you stop ignoring your forebears?"

Again, all Korra could think to do was shrug. After all, she hadn't been ignoring them, so much as avoiding her two least favorite incarnations, and surely she had a right to do _that_. _Not that Roku would understand… _"Well, it's obvious that I don't have much of a choice, now, do I?"

Roku ground his teeth. "That's not the answer I'm looking for, _girl_."

There were a lot of answers that went through Korra's head just then. Some of them were fierce enough to make Katara proud, and some obscene enough to make Sokka blush. They came in all the languages that she, as the Avatar, had been required to tap into her past lives to learn. But, as satisfying as they all were, in the end, there was only one that actually made her feel…well…

_Made her feel that it was worth saying…_

"Why?"

Roku blinked, looking lost. Korra couldn't help but feel proud of that. "What?"

Korra looked up and, for the first time, met Roku's eyes with her own. "_Why? _Why me? You obviously find me unsatisfactory, and no doubt some of the others do, too, so why not, just…I dunno…pick someone better? Someone more to your liking? Seems like it would be more productive to do that than to come and bitch at me like this, just because I don't want to talk to you right now."

Roku's features darkened, and, for the first time, he looked genuinely angry. The sight sent a chill up her spine.

"It is not our place to judge the choice of Raava," the old man ground out, "not is it yours. Trust me, you are not the first Avatar to struggle with their duty."

Korra felt the chill vanish in a blaze of fire. "And just what…what _is_ my duty?"

Roku sighed. "To restore balance to the world, and then to maintain it."

That didn't make Korra feel the least bit enlightened. "Yeah, but what does that even _mean? _I mean…_come on_. Everyone keeps saying that, you and the others and people around me, but no one seems to know what the hell that actually _is_."

Roku opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Korra waited with baited breath, and she couldn't help but feel that this answer would be of vital importance to her future. Aang's words came back to her then: _Only __**you**__ can decide what it means to be the Avatar._ She thought of those words, and wondered if Roku would be as honest as Aang had been.

Characteristically, Roku disappointed her.

"I see you are determined to act the child tonight. One of us will return at a later date, and see if you are feeling more mature. But, _girl_, beware: You are not the first Avatar to ask these questions, nor will you be the last. Do not follow the path they illuminate, for that way lies madness."

And, just like _that_, he was right in front of her. He loomed over her, eyes blazing, the light that suffused him pulsing like blood through a vein. When he spoke, her very soul trembled, and she felt that she was looking into the fires of hell.

"And before you think to ignore my warning, think on what became of the last Avatar who failed in their duties. Think on that, and remember it, the next time that little boy comes traipsing in to interfere with things he surrendered his right to be involved with. Do not follow the road he points you towards, for, I assure you, the consequences will be _dire._" He bowed, snapped his fingers, and-

Korra woke up. Not ten seconds had passed in the so-called _real world_. Nothing had changed. Even the temperature was exactly the same. Despite that, she pulled her cloak from over her shoulder and wrapped it tight about her, for, suddenly, there on that rooftop, she was very, very cold.

* * *

Personally, I never much liked Roku. I mean, he wasn't some power-mad lunatic like Sozin, but on the other hand, the guy definitely has a haughty, superior demeanor about him. After all, he never really tried to _reason _with Sozin, did he? No, he just got all _Avatar-y _and pronounced the word from on high. Sure, reasoning probably wouldn't have worked with Sozin, but there you go. And just look at the way he's always barking at Aang. _Yeesh._

I mean, this is the guy who, in the sequel comics (which have their problems, but still), encourages Aang to kill Zuko rather than give the guy a chance and try and reason with him. Not the best of forebears.

This is also starting to get into some of the things I'd like to explore about being Avatar, but more on that later; don't want any spoilers.

In the next chapter, Zuko and his buddies arrive at the mansion, and bond a little bit. Stay tuned!


	45. ZUKO XIII

ZUKO

IT WAS ABOUT A TWO-MILE, HALF-HOUR WALK FROM THE CAMP TO THE MANSION, AND ZUKO AND HIS FRIENDS SPENT THE ENTIRE TIME BITCHING. Not because they expected anything to change, of course; Toru, Ryu, and Zuko had all resigned themselves to the ball, just as the Captain had resigned himself to their complaints. No, it was merely because _whining like little girls_ is the sacred right of all those who risk their lives in the service of their country, and they felt honor-bound to drag their feet and indulge in said privilege.

_And there is oh so much to whine about_, Zuko decided. For example, the ball required them to shave far closer than they normally would, which left Zuko's face feeling unpleasantly burned. Then, there were the dress uniforms, high-collared monstrosities that seemed designed as perfect passive torture devices. And that wasn't even touching on what Zuko felt was the worst part, that being that regulations required him to wear all of his decorations, which the Captain had helpfully sent a clerk to pack before they left the Regiment, the end result being that Zuko and Toru end up looking, to Zuko at least, like walking bags of change.

Alas, no matter how much they dragged their feet, duty called, leaving Zuko and his comrades no choice but to stomp their feet and make highly detailed plans to gut the first person who pointed at their freshly polished and sharpened _katanas_ and asked, _So, you ever kill anyone with that? _

All while the Captain steadfastly ignored them, of course.

Things had reached a fever pitch when they all paused for a moment to light a last round of cigarettes for each other. They were making a big production of lighting up and puffing while the Captain chatted amiably with a random noble from the Homeland when Ryu rounded on the others, one eyebrow popped, and asked, "Hey, can I ask you two something?"

Zuko exchanged glances with Toru, and both shrugged. "Shoot," Toru said.

"Right." Ryu nodded for a moment, obviously rolling words around in his head. "Right…why?"

"Why what?" Zuko asked.

"Why do you hate these things so much? I mean, I get why Yuk and I avoid them; Yuk doesn't really _like_ people, and we've gone into me. Tsurukawa even makes sense. But you two? You're legit nobs, and you even like people, to boot. So…what gives?"

Zuko looked away, while Toru stepped up to answer. "Because, for me, it's important to remember that not all nobles are created equal. I'm pretty far down on the nobility totem pole. For me, shindigs like this meant watching my dad suck up to someone who was, in turn, sucking up to someone else, all while my brothers and I tried to pretend we didn't notice. So…yeah, not really pleasant memories for me."

Ryu frowned, in an enlightened sort of way. "Wow…you mean…huh…I guess I always thought all nobs were…well…_nobs_."

Zuko shrugged. "That's how it looks from the outside, but, from within? It's _way_ more complicated. Heh…you know, when I was, like, thirteen or so, I actually got a long, detailed lecture on, if I was to ever take a mistress – as was my right, given that I was royalty – what classes it would be acceptable to take one from?"

Ryu's eyes went wide with shock. "No shit?"

Zuko nodded. "No shit. Upper nobility, former _daimyo _and shit, are out; those are bride material for a prince. And lower nobility like Toru's family are only acceptable if the girl happens to be of incredible beauty, but as a general rule, a prince does not consort with the descendants of low-level _samurai_, and we won't even get into commoners. What a royal is supposed to go for is the mid-range of nobility, people who are not suitable for brides, but are _perfect_ for official, full-time concubines."

"Sounds complicated," Ryu solemnly observed.

"You have no idea."

Ryu nodded. "Right…so…we've explained Toru, but from what I can see, you're dodging."

To that, Zuko said nothing, merely pointed at the left side of his face.

Ryu's own face fell. "Oh…_my bad…_"

Zuko replied with a shrug. "Eh, it's fine. Actually, if I'm totally honest, these kinds of things aren't all that bad. It's all about finding your own entertainment."

"And how do you do that?"

"Make friends, be sure to get some booze, find a way to hang out with the staff…" He laughed. "That's where the _real_ party is, by the way. I actually _do _have some decent memories, it's just that I didn't get any of them by following the rules. Heh…you know, my sister and I, we used to play this game at big court functions, wherein we-"

By then, the Captain had resumed walking, and the officers followed while Zuko told his little story. The Captain was deep in his conversation, and was ignoring his junior officers completely. They walked in a line behind him, staying just beyond his _circle of awareness_, a mythical line beyond which bullshit was, if not condoned, at least tolerated. Not for the first time, Zuko found himself ruminating on how much a well-run military unit was remarkably like a primary school. There was the crotchety headmaster in the form of the Captain, the teachers in the form of the non-commissioned and junior officers, and, of course, the children, or, if one prefers, the enlisted men. To the untrained eye, it no doubt looked like chaos, but, Zuko would assure said observer, it was _organized_ chaos.

This line of thought soon led him to another, wherein he wondered how they looked, the three of them walking in a straight line. They were very relaxed, but no doubt looked the picture of humorless soldiers. They walked with measured, even steps, backs ramrod straight, shoulders back, chins up. They glittered in their high-collared uniforms, and their hands resting lightly on the hilts of their _katanas_. Zuko looked down on a whim, and his eyes went wide as his discovery.

"Guys…we're walking in step with each other."

Toru's eyes mirrored Zuko's. "No fucking way…"

"I shit you not."

Ryu chuckled. "We need help."

"Hey," Toru said, pointing an accusatory finger, "Zuko and I have had four years at the Academy and four years in the Army to get synced to each other. What's _your_ excuse?"

Ryu shrugged. "I believe that my observation was that _we_ needed help."

"He did," Zuko pointed out.

Toru nodded. "Fair enough. Still-"

Suddenly, they stopped. They were all completely silent and standing at attention. At some point, they had reached the front doors, or, at least, the steps leading up to them. The Captain had stopped out of nowhere and turned on his heel, and was doing his trick where he managed to glower _down_ at his boys, even though they all had various degrees of height on him. Like the showman he was, he let the silence drag out for a few moments, while exquisitely dressed guests filed into the mansion and servants and guards bustled about.

He cleared his throat. "Gentlemen."

"Sir," they chorused.

"Now, I know that none of you particularly _wanted_ to come here tonight, but I would still appreciate it if you three young men enjoyed yourselves."

"Yes, sir."

"That said, there _are_ rules, and we are here representing our people and our Regiment. Thus, Mishima?"

Ryu clicked his heels. "Sir."

"Keep the drinking to a sane minimum, and _no gambling_."

Ryu bowed. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Watanabe?"

Toru clicked his heels. "Sir."

"You may think you're sly, but your reputation always precedes you. Thus, hands off the nobles' daughters…_and their wives, too._"

Toru bowed. "Yes, sir." It was hard for Zuko not to laugh; he had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself. The truth was, well…the truth was, Zuko had known his best friend for a long time, long enough to know that Toru's _lady-killing reputation_ was a complete fabrication, no least because ladies didn't interest Toru at all. Not only that, but Zuko had served under the Captain to know that the man was well aware, and was just politely reminding Toru that attitudes towards such things were not as easy-going in the Earth Kingdom as they were back home.

"Tokugawa."

Zuko clicked his heels. "Sir."

The Captain smiled. "For you, I would like to take this moment to issue a gentle reminder that _enjoying oneself _and _having a little fun_ are not, in fact, crimes listed under the _Royal Code of Military Justice_."

Now, it seemed, it was Zuko's turn to get flustered (_like fucking always_, he thought). To cover up, he bowed. "Yes, sir."

When he rose, the Captain was smiling even more. Zuko could practically feel the good mood seeping into his heart.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I have no doubt that you'll do me proud."

They all bowed and chorused, "Yes, sir!"

He laughed. Zuko didn't believe it at first, but, sure enough, it was true: _Captain Ueno was fucking __**laughing.**_ Zuko shook his head. _The wonders never cease. What else does the night have in store for me?_

"You're good boys," the Captain said, still chuckling, "you know that? Don't any of you get killed; I won't get this lucky with my officers again."

And with that pleasant admonition ringing in his ears, Zuko followed the Captain inside.

* * *

I once asked a friend of mine, who's an officer in the Marine Corps, what the first lesson they teach in OCS is. He laughed and said, _They taught me that a bitchy soldier is a happy soldier. _This is, I think a universal rule for many things in life. There's a fine line between bitching and complaining, and as long as, say, one's students are just _bitching_, rather than actually _complaining, _you know you're doing a good job.

Also, I didn't come up with the comparison of a military unit to an elementary (or primary) school. For that, I thank Evan Wright and his amazing book, _Generation Kill. _

Last but not least, the bit about accidentally walking in step is something from my own personal experience. See, when I was in high school, I played trombone in the marching band, because I was just _that fucking cool, guys. _And more than once, my band buddies and I would be walking along, and would discover that we had somehow managed to form a perfect line and walk in step. It was always an occasion for some laughter.

Anyways, I'm going to leave you guys there for now, because I'm cruel, but also because I have things to do today, and I need to go get on them. *maniacal laughter*

In the next chapter, Katara walks into the ballroom, and spots someone she desperately wanted to see. Stay tuned!


	46. KATARA XII

KATARA

THEY HAD RUN INTO TOPH HALFWAY TO THEIR DESTINATION. Or, more accurately, Toph had run into them. It was a good thing that they had, too; between the two of them, Sokka and Katara had gotten hopelessly lost, adrift in a beehive of activity. It hadn't helped that both siblings were of the headstrong, proud variety, and thus had been unwilling to admit in front of the other how lost they were. And so they wandered, tempers rising, bickering back-and-forth. Sokka kept stopping in every mirror to check his hair, and Katara's arms ached from holding up her dress to better facilitate rapid movement. Tempers rose, tempers flared, and when Toph appeared – seemingly out of nowhere – the Water Tribe siblings, proud scions of a noble family of an ancient clan of a great people, were engaged in a furious round of juvenile name-calling and fierce finger-pointing. This actually got _worse_ when Toph appeared and asked what was going on, since both siblings tried to blame things on the other. Their efforts were brought to a grinding halt, though, when the little blind teenager rolled her eyes, laughed, and said, "Oh, what-the-fuck-ever. Follow me, you pair of fucking dipshits."

And that's how they came to be here, struggling to keep up as Toph led them through the mansion, feeling very foolish.

Katara found the trip a rather illuminating experience. After their six months in the North as guests of High King Arnook, she was no stranger to wealth and power, and her few days at the Bei Fong estate had been educational, but not surprising.

Tonight, though, the full majesty of the Bei Fongs was on full display. The Lord and Lady had pulled out all the stops, and the sheer number of servants ducking and weaving around them was mind-boggling. She found her mind wandering, ruminating on the history lessons of her youth and the painful lessons of the past two years. It was Azulon who had made this all possible, Azulon who had ratcheted back Sozin's attempt at conquest by blunt force and opted, instead, for taking advantage of the instinctive divisions of the Fire Nation's enemies. With the Air Nomads, that meant taking advantage of their decentralized nature; with the Water Tribes, it meant exacerbating the ages-old enmity between North and South; and with the South, it meant playing each clan off against the others.

Compared to the game that had been played here in the former Earth Kingdom, though, those maneuvers were mere child's play. Linguistic divisions, ethnic hatreds, and a series of weak-willed Emperors had all combined into a perfect storm of disunity and collapse. By the time then-Crown Prince Iroh shattered the walls of Ba Sing Se, it was all over. Those local lords and barons who not already come to terms, like the Bei Fongs apparently had, some time ago, did so, thus maintaining their wealth and their power in exchange for obedience and keeping the peace, and the long, ever-present Occupation had begun in earnest.

_And yet…_

She sighed. _The War raged on. _The vast northeast remained a war zone, the sandbenders of the Si Wong Desert refused to bend the knee, and passive resistance remained endemic even in so-called _pacified areas_. Every day, boys from Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom died in countless ambushes, skirmishes, raids, a thousand-thousand pinpricks of fire and blood. Everyone wanted it all to end, and yet no one knew how to make that happen.

_Not even me…_

Deep down inside, a small, little girl's voice reminded her of the oath she had sworn to her parents, urged her to remember the Avatar. She pushed the voice away. She didn't want to think about the Avatar; if she thought about anything, it would be about Korra. _Korra_, not the Avatar. Her dream, _her nightmare_, had finally brought into the light of day what she had worked so hard to avoid. Because, at the end of the day, Katara no longer believed.

_She had lost her faith in the Avatar._

_ She only had faith in Korra._

"Wander off again, sis?"

She blinked, gave herself a shake, shrugged. Her brother was looking at her with worry in his eyes. A few steps ahead of them, Toph walked on, bare feet gliding down yet another hallway, a pair of fancy shoes twirling from her fingers.

Katara gave her brother the best smile she could manage. "I guess so…sorry about that. We promised we'd stop, didn't we?"

He smiled back, the smile thin and brittle. _One of these days_, she swore to herself, _I'll see the last of that smile. One of these days, he will no longer live shrouded by a shadow called Yue. _"Yeah…well…I was doing it, too. Still…remember, we're supposed to be having _fun_ tonight." He moved closer, threw an arm around her shoulders. It was childish, she knew, but she couldn't help but feel better with that warm, familiar weight around her. "Who knows, it's like I keep saying, maybe one of those officers _is_ good ole' Zuko."

She felt a girlish giggle bubble in her throat, and decided not to fight it. _Fun, that's what we're going to have; fun, fun, __**FUN.**_ After all, it wasn't like they could truly begin Korra's training with all these people about. _Another delay…_ She glared at the thought, chased it away with the mental equivalent of her mother's wooden spoon. "I highly doubt that, Sokka," she said, smiling softly. "At best, one of them will know of him."

Sokka shrugged. "Maybe so, but the night does seem to be full of wonders. I mean, come on, we're following a blind girl through a giant mansion; who knows what's ahead of us? And besides, a man in uniform's a man in uniform." He threw her a wink. "Or so your dating history says."

She rolled her eyes. _See? __**Fun.**_ "Oh, for fuck's…sleep with _one_ soldier, and you never let me forget it."

He laughed. "_One?! _What about that soldier in the North, the Royal Guardsman?"

She sighed. "Ah, Lieutenant Kariallak…yeah, he was dreamy, but we didn't do anything beyond go for the occasional walk. Poor guy was a bit too timid for my tastes. So, yeah, Zuko's the only one."

He waved the explanation away. "Whatever. Point being, you have a type: Tall, fit, able to bend, too smart for their own good, a bit of a dork, and, if possible, wearing a uniform of some sort."

"And that's better than constantly aiming out of your league?"

"Hey, it's not _out of my league_ if I succeed. At least I don't get lost in big mansions."

Her mouth dropped open, and the offense she felt was not feigned. "Really? _Really?!" _She huffed and threw his arm off, jutting her chin out in prideful disdain. "_You_ are the one who got us lost, and that's that, you big oaf."

From the teenager leading them (and it said a lot about Toph Bei Fong, Katara felt, that neither her nor her brother thought to question how someone who was _blind_ could lead _anybody_) came a loud scoff. "Oh, stop it, you two. For fuck's sake, _seriously_. You're making me glad I never had any siblings."

The siblings had been bickering in their tribal dialect, so their first reaction was one of surprise. "You understand Yuupik?" Sokka asked.

This elicited yet another scoff. "Fuck no, it's all gibberish to me. Still, _sibling bickering _sounds the same in every language. It's like gossip and angry mothers; some things are just universal."

The siblings nodded at that, pursing their lips in thought. Katara couldn't help but find the observation absurdly profound. The more she traveled, the more she felt that the similarities between the nations were more numerous than the differences. Ignore language and culture and religion, and all one had were _people_. Flawed, conflicted, ever-lost people, but people nonetheless.

"What _is_ that language you guys are always speaking to each other, anyways?" Toph continued. "I mean, I get that the Inuktitut of the South is different from the Northern variety I learned, but it shouldn't be gibberish to me."

"Every tribe in the South has its own dialect," Katara explained, ducking to avoid having her face make contact with a passing tray piled with food. "We speak it only among ourselves, and never teach it to outsiders."

Toph nodded. "I gotcha. Kind of like here, where every village seems to have its own special way of talking."

"Yeah," Sokka said, rubbing his chin in the way that he always did when he was learning something new, "I always wondered how that came to be."

Toph shrugged. "Big country, lots of people, and big spaces in between. It's just how it works. Put five Earth Kingdom natives in a room, you'll get six different ways of doing things. End result, four big languages, countless regional dialects, even more little dialects, and that's not even counting the Imperial Dialect of Putonghua, which is almost a language unto itself, and which exists solely to help nobles talk to each other."

"Right on," Katara said, beginning to hope that their trek would soon be over. She watched Toph move, and realized with a shock that, though her and her brother had had countless near misses with bustling servants, Toph had yet to have even _one_. "Hey, Toph?"

"Hmm?"

"How do you do…_that?_"

Toph seemed to ponder her answer for a moment. "It's…really hard to explain. I just…see the world differently than you do. You'd honestly have to be a blind earthbender to understand."

"And you have to be bare foot for it to work?" Sokka asked, still rubbing his chin.

Toph shook her head. "Kind of, but not really? It's just harder to see with shoes on. Plus, fuck shoes, you know?"

"That attitude wouldn't last long in a winter back home," Katara pointed out.

"True, true. Ah! We made it!"

They had arrived at a set of big doors. From beyond came a muffled roar, people chatting in a half-dozen languages to the accompaniment of a _very_ skilled band. Katara dropped her skirts and ran her hands down her dress, hunting for wrinkles, while Sokka used a handy mirror to check his hair one more time and Toph hurriedly put on her shoes. A servant passed with a tray crowded with wine glasses, and Sokka plucked three and handed two to the girls. Katara's almost spilled, but a quick wave of her hand settled it. Sokka shook his head and whistled. "You know, sis, I will _never_ get tired of seeing you do shit like that."

"Shit like what?" Toph asked, sipping her glass.

"Cool waterbending shit," Sokka replied.

"It can be ridiculously handy," Katara admitted, not even _trying_ to be modest.

"I bet," Toph said. She knocked back the rest of her wine and smacked her lips. "Well, I don't know about you chuckleheads, but I'm ready to fucking _party_. Everyone got their masks?"

The siblings grunted affirmatively, and tried theirs on. Toph put on her own, but had to ask Katara to make sure it was on right. Thus prepared, the siblings polished off their wine, the glasses were stashed on a random ledge, and then doors were opened and they had arrived.

She didn't see the scarlet-clad officers at first. She was scanning the room, taking it all in. The floor was a riot of fine gowns and luxurious robes and jewels that sparkled like the sea at sunset. The air was thick with perfume and the smell of food. Beside her, Sokka gasped in delight, bounding off for the buffet. Katara turned to watch him go, giggling to herself. A tug at her sleeve caught her attention. Watching her brother all but sprint for the grub and the booze, she said, "Yes?"

"You see those officers anywhere?" Toph asked.

Sokka narrowly avoided bowling over a very tough-looking noblewoman, and it was all Katara could do not to collapse into a fit of hysterics. "Honestly, I haven't looked. Why?"

"No real reason, I've just never really met, like, a legit, Fire Nation officer before."

"Ah. You speak Nihongo?"

"Of course I fucking do. You?"

"Hardly any at all."

"Well, good thing I'm here. So, you see them, or am I going to have to hunt them down myself?"

Katara began to turn to face the girl. "Well, I'm sure they're around here somewhere. They won't be hard to-"

She never finished the sentence. Toph asked what she was going to say, but Katara never heard her. There, standing by a pillar, were two Fire Nation officers. They wore full dress uniforms, two figures of scarlet and black in a sea of color. One was talking, but the other was silent. She felt her eyes go wide. At some point, her hand went to her mouth. She felt bolted to the floor. Her heart had all but _stopped_.

She recognized him instantly, even without seeing the scar that spilled from behind his simple mask. Her hand dropped, and she felt the most wonderful, glorious smile spread across her face.

"Hey, Toph?"

"Yeah?"

"You said you wanted to meet a legit Fire Nation officer, right?"

"Right. We just established that. Any particular reason why we're restating what we just fucking said?"

Katara took her hand. "Just hush and follow me." And with that, Katara took one step, then another, feeling as light as a feather.

_I'd almost forgotten how handsome he is…_

* * *

So, Toph's observation comes from an incident from my subbing career. Basically, I'm strangely good with ESL students, which is apparently a rare skill to have. It's not hard; if you want to work with ELLs and recent immigrants, install Google Translate on your phone and be prepared to gesture a lot. Somehow, I'm good at it. Point is, I had two Middle Eastern girls, chattering away in Arabic and not doing their work, and I barked at them, telling them to stop gossiping and get to it. Shocked, they rounded on me and asked if I spoke Arabic. I laughed, and said, "Nope, not a word, but gossip sounds the same in every language. _Now get to work!"_

Just a little anecdote from my life.

One of you guys (I'm too lazy to look up the specific review) pointed out how the Earth Kingdom should use Mandarin and Cantonese. Thing is, _they do_. Putonghua is Mandarin in, well, _Mandarin_, and Guangzhou is the same for Cantonese. The names sounds cool, and, well, there's no _Canton _in the Earth Kingdom, so there you go. In my mind, the Earth Kingdom's four big languages would be Korean, Mandarin, Cantonese, and Uyghur; I'll let you know when the other two are important. Also, Putonghua, like Mandarin in the real Chinese Empire, would be divided into the language regular people use, and an _Imperial Dialect _that the nobility and administrators use to talk to each other.

Not that any of you give a shit. _We're about to get some motherfucking Zutara, ya'll!_

I was just dragging things out to annoy you. *maniacal laughter*

Moving on...in the next chapter, Zuko sees Katara, and we start to have some fun. Stay tuned!


	47. ZUKO XIV

ZUKO

ONCE THEY HAD FOLLOWED THE CAPTAIN INTO THE FOYER, A RATHER WEATHERED-LOOKING MAJORDOMO STEPPED FORWARD. He bowed, in perfect accordance with Fire Nation protocol, and when he spoke, the Nihongo he used would have passed muster in any noble mansion back home. Zuko actually had to do a double take to make sure the man wasn't really Fire Nation, so impeccable were his speech and manners.

"Captain," a deep bow, "Lieutenants," a more shallow bow, "welcome. I trust your stay in Gaoling has been pleasant so far?"

"We have no complaints that I'm aware of," the Captain replied, returning the bow. "I take it the ball is through here?" He gestured at two big wooden doors, beautifully and intricately carved.

The majordomo nodded, a perfect servant's grin on his face. "Absolutely. How shall I announce you? Are there any titles I should use?"

The Captain shook his head. "Rank and family name is perfectly acceptable." He rattled off the required information, and the majordomo listened intently and nodded, even though it was obvious (to Zuko, at least) that the man knew _exactly_ who each of them was. Preliminaries finished, the Captain patted his _katana_. "Do we need to leave these somewhere…?"

The majordomo chuckled, a kind, reassuring sound. _This guy could give lessons in etiquette at the Palace_, Zuko thought with a wistful grin. "Oh, no, that won't be necessary. Lord Bei Fong gave me to understand that your _katanas_ are more than mere weapons, but are actually considered part of your uniforms, correct…?"

The Captain nodded. "That is so."

The majordomo nodded right back. "Quite. Now, if you gentlemen will follow me…"

The doors were opened, and the party stepped into a cavernous ballroom, exquisitely and impeccably decorated. Along one wall stretched tables manned by servants serving food and drink, and a band played on a raised dais in one corner. The music was soft and soothing, perfect for early party mingling. Guests chatted away in knots upon the floor, and servants darted hither and yon. The reactions to the arrival of the soldiers, marked by the bellowing of their names and ranks by the majordomo, were rather mixed. The Fire Nation citizens, Zuko noted, gave light, muted applause, while the Earth Kingdom representatives either nodded, glared, or utterly ignored them. _Fine by me_. Zuko would've found anything more enthusiastic than that to be suspicious.

Suddenly, the majordomo was once more before them, giving a deep, apologetic bow. "Oh, I almost forgot!" He beckoned over a servant carrying a tray, then turned back to them. "I'm afraid, gentlemen, that this is a masquerade, so I must ask you to pick out masks."

Ryu scoffed. "Um…_no_."

The Captain glared. _"Mishima._"

Toru crossed his arms. "No offense, sir, but I'm with Ryu here."

The Captain rounded on Zuko. "What about you, Tokugawa? Are you joining in the mutiny?"

Zuko frowned at the tray of masks, heart falling. "Do we have to…?"

The Captain just glowered.

Ryu huffed. "Yes, _sir._" He gave Toru and Zuko simultaneous nudges. "Well, go on. Age before beauty."

"Go fuck yourself," Toru muttered.

"Ditto," Zuko agreed.

Once all was settled, the three junior officers took time to mock each other's choice of masks. Ryu came out on top, Zuko noted with irritation, a small, plain mask that went well with his features. Zuko didn't like his mask at all; it tickled his scar, and that same scar, when he looked in a mirror, spilled out from the edges, rendering the mask both pointless and rather grotesque-looking. Toru got the worst deal, though; he had grabbed a mask without looking, and the result was appropriately ridiculous.

Teasing aside, the soldiers stepped out into the party proper. The Captain found his companion from the walk and resumed his conversation, while Ryu made a beeline for the booze. Toru and Zuko were left alone, side by side, just kind of, well, _standing there_, in a way that's only possible at the most crowded of parties.

"So," Toru said, "this brings back memories."

Zuko sighed, pulling at his collar. Between the mask pricking at his scar and the stuffy dress uniform, he was quite uncomfortable. "Yeah, it does, doesn't it? Makes me wish my sister was here."

Toru chuckled. "Or…what was her name? Your Water Tribe girl?"

Zuko's sigh grew in wistfulness. "Well…one, she's not _my girl_, or anybody's girl, for that matter. Two, her name is Katara."

Toru poked his arm. "Well, you're in luck. Not only does it look like there are some Water Tribe people here, but one of them seems to be coming this way! I mean, sure, they are probably from the North, but still…"

"Huh?" Zuko asked as he turned. Toru was pointing to his left, and he had to twist his head around until his good eye could get a decent look.

What he saw took his breath away.

She was wearing a gorgeous dress in a thousand shades of blue, a dress that revealed her shoulders and that seemed to drink in the light. The betrothal necklace (_that wasn't a betrothal necklace_, he remembered with a smile) shined like the moon, and she glittered with the perfectly tasteful amount of jewelry. Zuko knew it was all borrowed, but didn't care. He took her all in, every inch of her. She was walking hand-in-hand with a petite Earth Kingdom girl dressed in a riot of greens, and at one point, the girl said something, and Katara turned to answer, and Zuko saw how her hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall.

Then she turned again, and her eyes met his.

She smiled. He smiled back.

She was almost there.

Toru said something to him, but for the life of him, Zuko had no idea what it was.

* * *

I know I beg a lot for fanart, but I have not just one, but _two _requests from this chapter:

One, the boys in their masks. I'd love to see what your imaginations make of Toru's.

Two, how Katara looks.

There's a third, but you guys can read on and figure it out.

Speaking of which...did I ever tell you about this one time...

Like you care. In the next chapter, we get Toph's view of Zutara, and one of my favorite chapters _ever. _Stay tuned!


	48. TOPH II

TOPH

ONCE, WHEN SHE WAS A LITTLE GIRL, TOPH'S PARENTS HAD, IN THE WAY THAT PARENTS WHO STILL LOVE EACH OTHER DO, REGALED HER WITH THE STORY OF HOW THEY MET. Both of her parents tended to turn poetic at such moments, but, from what she could tell, it all boiled to the fact that, sure, it was an arranged marriage (such, after all, was the lot in life for people in their position), but, the moment they laid eyes on each other, both had known that this was going to be different. It was love at first sight and blah, and blah, and blah, and more _blah_. Toph felt that such occasions were even worse for her than those cursed with the gift of sight, since she had to endure the signs and the signals that made her want to gag. When her parents had finished, she had taken a big gulp of water, and then, all of thirteen-years-old, said, "Yeah, that was great…do me a favor, and never tell that fucking story again, okay?" Her parents had found this response hysterical, but Toph had spent the next week trying to scrub the sugary sweetness out of her mind. She had honestly and truly felt that it was impossible to ever get that grossed out again.

On the night of the ball, though, she discovered that she was comically mistaken.

First, there was the way Katara started gripping her hand like it was a piece of wood in the middle of a storm at sea. Then, there was the way the girl's heart started fluttering and dancing about. And was that _sweat_ on her palms? _Ugh, gag me with a fucking __**spoon.**_

The officer (for that was what Toph inferred, from what Katara had said before dragging her across the floor) was even worse, to Toph's unending surprise. The other one (another educated guess on Toph's part) seemed pretty chill, though slightly confused, but the one right in front of Katara? _Yeesh_. If the asshole gulped one more time, Toph was pretty sure she was going to bust a tit, right then and there.

And then, just when Toph didn't think it could get any worse, _they started talking._

_ Oh, for the love of all that is fucking holy_, she groaned to herself, _if people had even an __**inkling**__ of how stupid they sounded at times like this, they'd never say a word._

Katara started. Her grip on Toph's hand tightened, and she started playing with her hair, a habit Toph found vaguely irritating, mostly for the sound it made. "So," she said, in Inuktitut, "um…how are you, gentlemen?"

_Did her heart and his just do synchronized flips? Gods fucking help me, they __**did.**_

The officer shifted his feet and replied, in Inuktitut as polished and urbane as Toph's, "Well…um…I'm…I mean, we're…doing very well, this evening." He switched back into Nihongo to say to his comrade, "Aren't we, Toru?"

Toph really wished she could've seen the look on the one called Toru's face when he said, "Dude, I haven't even the _faintest_ fucking clue what's going on."

"Look, man, _this is her_. It's Katara!"

The one called Toru's heart did something very curious then: It stopped, it dropped, and there was a barely contained sigh that was just barely beaten back. _Curiouser and curiouser…_ "Oh? Really? How can you tell?"

Toph didn't catch the response, because Katara was suddenly right by her ear and asking, in Guangzhou, "What're they saying?"

"They're talking about how nice your tits are, Sugar Queen."

"Oh, really?" _Oh. My. __**Gods. **__She's…__**she's not offended by that. What. What. WHAT.**_

"No, I'm joking. These dudes don't read like that type."

"Well, _I _could have told you that." And there was a sound of rustling fabric, and if Katara wasn't subtly adjusting her dress to show certain things off, Toph would've happily shit a brick.

"Right, so, you know these jokers?"

"Oh, yeah…" _Come on, Sugar Queen, don't forget your excuse for dragging me over here. Yeesh. _Switching back to Inuktitut, Katara said, in a voice that trembled with excitement, "My name is Ka-uh, _Kya_. My name is _Kya_. Right, and this," a squeeze of the hand, "is my friend, the Lady Toph Bei Fong."

"Ah," the nervous officer said, in a voice that said he really couldn't give less of a shit who Toph was, "the Lord Bei Fong's daughter, I presume?"

Normally, at this point, Toph would've jumped in, because fuck if she was going to let people do that thing where they talked like she wasn't there. That would've been her standard move, and yet…_this was just too delicious_. So, she shut her mouth and waited.

Earrings jangled, which meant Katara was nodding quite vigorously. "The very one. And…um...well, she'd never met a Fire Nation officer before, at least, not like this, so she wanted to meet you. And you two would be…?"

"Well…um…I'm Tokugawa Zuko, Lieutenant, First Grade, and this is my friend and comrade, Watanabe Toru, Lieutenant, First Grade."

The other one no doubt gave a little bow as he said, "A pleasure, my ladies," in fairly passable Guangzhou.

"And what unit are you gentlemen with?" Katara was asking, while Toph was thinking, _Really? Is this all necessary? Can you two just go and tear each other's clothes off already? I mean, for fuck's sake…_

"The Ninety-Fourth Infantry," can the reply, "billeted about five days west of here."

Katara opened her mouth, but never spoke, because Toph had heard something she needed clarified, and, well…_the hell? _"Hold on a minute right there, if you don't mind," she burst out, barreling into the conversation with her solid Inuktitut, "what was your family name again? You, the one who keeps rubbing the back of your neck. Not you, you're cool, Toru, right? Yeah, no, you, Zuko, _He with the Outrageously Dry Mouth_."

There was a long pause, one which even Toph found awkward, before Dry Mouth answered her. "Tokugawa."

"Uh huh." She rounded on Katara. "You never mentioned that he was a fucking _prince_."

Toph expected a lot of things, not least among them for Katara to get shocked and for this little revelation to cause some nice, delicious _drama_. What she _wasn't_ expecting, was for Katara's heart to just about stop, the hand to be pulled away, and the water in a nearby pitcher to start vibrating.

_Uh oh…_

"Well," Katara said, sounding like she was smiling through gritted teeth, "maybe I didn't tell you because it was none of your business. Or maybe, just _maybe_, it's not something Zuko would want to talk about. Or _maybe-"_

Toph raised her hands. "Sorry I mentioned it. Please, go back to eye-fucking each other. Seems to be much safer for me."

"We're not…we're…_grr_. You're impossible, you know that, Toph?"

"And that's why you can't help but love me."

"…fair enough."

From next to Prince Hot-Pants (since, judging from the way Katara's heart was thumping away, this prince filled out a uniform quite nicely), Cool and Curious cleared his throat and asked, quite politely, in Nihongo, "Zuk, seriously, do you mind? I don't need a play-by-play, but some kind of summary would be appreciated…"

Prince Hot-Pants (_Sparky Pants? Lord Sparky? Prince Hotman? Come on, Toph, you can do better than that_) seemed to give a little jump. "Oh, right, _yeah_, sorry, you never learned Inuktitut."

"Never thought I'd need to."

_Alright, time to end this farce. _Stepping forward, Toph switched into her perfect Nihongo to say, "You know what, Captain Cool, I think we should leave Prince Sparky and _Kya_ here to their own devices. I mean, I don't know about you, but I can think of better things to do than standing here and watching them awkward each other into the sack."

Captain Cool (_yeah, Captain Cool, I like that, though maybe he's only cool when next to Sparky…Sparky…__**yeah…**_) took a moment to think, before moving to her side and letting her thread an arm through his. "You know what? That sounds amazing." They began striding off. "So, what did you want to know about the Army?"

"Well, for one thing, how's the pussy? If it's good enough, I might think about joining up myself."

"Oh? Well, I'm afraid I wouldn't know too much about that, but there is one colleague of mine…"

And so they went off, leaving behind a boy named Zuko and a girl named Katara.

* * *

That was just all _kinds _of fun. Don't you think so? I do. I think this story needs more Toph POVs. What about you?

One quick note: I defend this chapter against the charge of misogyny, at least, one particular part. Every single one of us has, at some point, taken a moment to make sure certain things that we like about ourselves were showing while talking to someone we like. And if you try to say otherwise, _you're lying._

But you're waiting for the fluff, I imagine. On to the fluff!

In the next chapter, a girl and a boy start trying to awkward each other into the sack. Stay tuned!


	49. A GIRL AND A BOY I

A GIRL AND A BOY

THEY WERE ADRIFT IN A SEA OF HUMANITY, BUT FOR ALL THAT THEY NOTICED, THEY MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN ALONE IN THE DEPTHS OF THE WORLD'S BIGGEST OCEAN. It was a story as old as time, even with all of its permutations. There was a girl, and a boy, and they liked each other more than either one was aware of.

"So," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "hey…"

"Hey," she replied, biting her lip.

"So…Kya, huh?"

"Absolutely. I'm Kya, the daughter of one of Lord Bei Fong's trading partners among the Southern Water Tribes."

"You know…I'm pretty sure there was this girl I met once, amazing girl, beautiful, smart, just really cool, whose mother's name was Kya."

"Well, it's a fairly common name in the South, oddly enough. I mean, not _super _common, but not unusual."

"Right on…I like the name _Katara_ much better, though."

"And I've always been partial to the name _Zuko._"

There was a pause. Somehow, they had gotten very close to each other. Neither one had yet to notice.

"You…you look really good, Ka…er…_Kya_."

"You really think so?"

"I do. I really do."

"Heh…you look…just…um…_wow_. I mean, I already knew you looked good in a uniform, but to see you decked out like this…I mean…_gods_…"

"Look, I'm already blushing enough, please don't make it any worse…"

"Oh, I haven't even _begun_ to fluster you."

"Well, that's not fair."

"All's fair in love and war."

"If that was true, there'd be neither love nor war."

"At least one of those outcomes would be pretty positive, you know."

"True…though what if there can't be any love without war?"

"Oh, now you're getting all philosophical on me."

"If I remember correctly, you enjoyed that, last time around."

"Well, first, I've never met you before, but if I had…well…that brings me to the second point, which is that, _if I had met you before_, I would _absolutely_ love you getting all philosophical on me."

"There's a lot to unpack from that sentence."

"You have no idea."

"I think I have an inkling."

"Um…Zuko…"

"Hmm?"

"Are we flirting?"

"I think so…heh…didn't know I had it in me."

"That makes two of us."

"What? _Please_. You're a natural…_Kya_."

"Only around you, it seems."

"Heh…how've you been?"

"I've been…it's been rough, I won't lie."

"Yeah, I heard some rumors about that…you have no idea how happy I am to see you in one piece."

"Likewise. I'd heard things were getting…_sticky_, here in the former Earth Kingdom."

"It's been…it's been rough, I won't lie."

"Have you ever lied to me?"

"No, I haven't. Not once."

"Me, neither."

Just then, the band struck up a tune. Scattered cheers rippled through the crowd. The Lord and Lady Bei Fong appeared, and the Lord made a brief speech. There was applause, and then a priest appeared to give a benediction, Lord Bei Fong announced that the games had officially begun, there was another cheer, and then the dancing began.

Katara didn't hesitate. She slipped her arm through Zuko's and began dragging him to the floor. "So, _please_ tell me they teach princes how to dance."

Zuko laughed. "It's basically a law, my dear. And, as it so happens, the dancing happened to be the only thing I was good at."

"Now _that_, I find both difficult and easy to believe. Why?"

"Well, for one thing, my father hated dancing, so it was a good way to flip him the bird on the sly. Plus, no one was ever brave enough to dance with my sister, and that girl is a natural at everything she does, so, well…I had to step in."

They stopped. Zuko looked down, into the big, beautiful blue eyes that he had been dreaming of for a year-and-a-half, and they were just as big and beautiful as he remembered, while Katara looked up, into one eye gold and glittering, the other pale and white, and found them both equally handsome.

"You are just…" She stopped, took a deep breath, let it out. "You are just adorable, you know that?"

He gave an awkward laugh. "Um…_I try?_"

She popped up and kissed him on the cheek. "Hush, you. Now, come on, and dance with me. In fact…I think I'm going to count this as our first date. Sound good?"

He smiled. It did. He told her so.

* * *

Royalty really do have to learn to dance. It's just a thing, especially back in the day. Nothing was considered more sad than a prince who couldn't dance.

Naturally, Ozai, being a prick, would _hate _dancing, because people smile when they dance, and fuck that, right?

But whatever, fluff, right? _Fluff. _Let's get on with the fluff!

In the next chapter, if the title doesn't start you off humming the theme to the song _Masquerade _from _Phantom of the Opera, _well, _you're dead inside._ Stay tuned!


	50. MASQUERADE

MASQUERADE

IN ANY PARTY, THERE IS A PATTERN. This is true no matter the language, culture, setting, or segment of society. Even the most drunken village festivals have a rhythm and flow to them. This immutable law of nature even extends to gatherings like that which occurred at the Bei Fong estate, the night before the great Earth Rumble tournament began. This would not, at first, seem to be the case; after all, the purpose of such an event is not to _have fun_, but, rather, _to be seen_, or, in the case of certain individuals, _to endure. _And yet, there was a set, prescribed sequence of events to be followed, and followed they would be.

Sure, certain individuals quickly felt the need to ignore utterly such ironclad requirements, but they were, if anything, the exceptions that proved the rule. That said, those who dissent are _always_ more interesting than those who conform, so it is upon them that any story must depend.

For example, there was young Lieutenant Mishima. This young man, spotting potential salvation, decided that his superior officer's instructions left wiggle-room. After all, what was a _sane minimum_ of alcohol consumption? He decided that, so long as he was more sober than one particularly sodden high lord he could see, he was at the ordered _sane minimum_. Unassailable logic thus arrived at, he proceeded to get completely soused, buttered up the servants, became intimately involved with a young female maid his age, and only managed to avoid gambling by virtue of not having brought any money. Despite all of this, by morning, he was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and, oddly enough, in better shape than one Captain Ueno, who kept himself to exactly one well-nursed glass of wine, two rice cakes, and a series of stupefyingly boring conversations with various notables, including one rather portly Earth Kingdom noble who was _convinced_ he spoke Nihongo when, in fact, he did not.

There was another young man, by the name of Sokka, who did his best to participate in the prevailing pattern. He tried to mingle, munch on the finger foods, sip the fine spirits, even tried a dance when the time came. In the end, though, the language barrier asserted itself, and young Sokka discovered that he fit into high society in the occupied Earth Kingdom about as well as he had in the at least nominally free Northern Water Tribe. He found his mind wandering, as drink and depression took their toll. He thought of a pretty young woman with unnaturally white hair. He remembered when, at their big reception feast in Iqaluit, she had pulled him from the shadows and made him dance all night. He saw himself sitting in the shade, reading a book he hated, just to impress her, and felt once more the terrified elation when she opened her bedroom window and pulled him inside.

He was smiling then, smiling like he hadn't smiled in too long, smiling right up until he once more watched a glowing tear slide down a ghostly cheek. With that, he gave himself a shake, downed his wine, and got some more. At a loss, he wandered over to a random wall, leaning himself against it, and watched his sister enjoy herself with the young Fire Nation officer she had yet to admit to her brother that she had a lot more than a crush on.

"Hello, there."

Sokka jumped. He turned, and found himself standing beside one Lieutenant Watanabe. This particular young man had not even _tried_ to participate; once his oldest and closest friend had seen the dark-skinned woman in the blue dress, Lieutenant Watanabe Toru had abandoned all aspirations towards festivity and found an acceptable wall to prop up. From there, he watched his friend, emotions cloaked behind an unreadable expression. Had he been asked, he would have merely said he was bored. The truth was, of course, much more complex…not that he would ever admit to it.

Sokka sighed, and took a drink of his wine. "Hello, yourself." Watanabe had spoken in Nihongo, and Sokka had spoken in tribal dialect; between them, the two men probably shared the meaning of barely a dozen words.

"I don't know about you," Watanabe said, "but I'm bored as fuck."

"Some party, right? It's a wonder these people can even _stand_, much less _dance_, with all the crap they're wearing…no offense."

"It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to wear this gods-damn dress uniform."

"Dude, that thing can't be even _remotely_ comfortable."

"And what with the sword and everything? I don't know how Zuko does it."

"Look at my sister! She just did a spin, twirl, and jump, then another twirl! And in that dress! That _should_ be physically impossible."

"You know that girl, don't you?"

"Hey, aren't you the other officer who was with Zuko?"

"In fact, I think I know you."

"Yeah, you were! We didn't see you for long, but you were there, I'm pretty sure."

"You're her brother, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm her brother. I should go and cause a scene, embarrass her or something…"

"Shouldn't you be embarrassing her?"

"Thing is, I like my feet where they are, _not_ frozen to the floor."

"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend messing with her."

"Hey, I don't know if I ever introduced myself. I'm Sokka."

"Toru. Nice to meet you."

"You, too."

"Man, I don't understand a _word_ of what you're saying."

"No offense, but your language sounds like _complete_ gibberish. Angry gibberish, too."

"Sokka, right?"

"Yup. Toru?"

"You bet. More booze?"

"You're holding up an empty glass, so I assume you want more booze. In that case, yes, I completely agree."

And so it continued. For the rest of the night, through a complex system of grunts, gestures, facial expressions, and mutually shared swear words, young Toru and young Sokka passed the time in what was, they felt, deep and important conversation.

Toph Bei Fong, perhaps, deserves the most attention. The ball was, in some ways, her coming-of-age party. Normally, such a thing wouldn't happen until her _seventeenth_ birthday, but, for reasons that remained mysterious to outsiders, her parents were elusive on the details for such an event, and seemed content to make clear that _this_ event should be treated as such. Thus, young Toph was often the center of attention, and she played her role to the hilt. When she was mobbed by suitors (and the mothers of suitors), she reveled in the attention, playing the boys off against each other, baiting mothers with outrageous commentary, and, at one point, slyly hitting on a suitor's sister.

When she grew bored with these games, she would move to the dance floor, where her blindness seemed not to so much as _slow her_, much less _limit her_. From there, it would be off to find her parents, then back to dancing, then more games with suitors, then she was sneaking wine when her mother wasn't looking.

One of her favorite moments came halfway through the evening. She strode to the center of the dance floor, and there, took off her shoes, closed her eyes, and spread her hands. What she _saw_ while she was in that position, none could even _begin_ to guess, and she never bothered to explain. All anyone really knew was that, by the end, she had a look of such beautiful, sublime, pure _bliss_, that several of her would-be suitors fell hopelessly in love with her on the spot, and the previously mentioned suitor's sister began to reconsider long-held opinions.

There were others, of course, individuals who did not really participate in the flow, and yet, did not do all that much. There were the Lord and Lady Bei Fong, who spent the entire party playing the gracious hosts. Their only breaks were to the restroom and, a few times, to the dance floor. Other than that, it was circulate, mingle, and hope none of the guests stumbled across a young teenage Water Tribe girl.

Then, there was the Lady Arinori Mai, who spent the entire evening trying not to cry. It wasn't that she was angry or bitter; she wasn't. She couldn't even get mad, not once she got a good look at the girl in the blue dress. Still…for all that the Lady Mai was smart, clever, independent, and determined to follow her chosen path in life, she was still a human being, and she would be lying if she did not admit, at least to herself, just how jealous she was.

Meanwhile, on a balcony above the floor, overlooking the whole affair, the Lady Mai's two best friends watched the thousand-thousand little dramas unfold. Of, at least, Ty Lee did; the Princess Azula had eyes only for her brother, and felt no shame for the stupid grin she had on her face.

Because, see, her brother, young Zuko, once a Prince, always a soldier, was smiling. He was smiling and, even stranger, _laughing_. And his companion, Katara, daughter of a chief, maker of her own destiny (or so she hoped), laughed and smiled right back. They had once spent a week together, a week that had unleashed things profound and incredible. They had bottled these things away ever since, peeking only in their dreams.

But now? Now they were together, and, if nothing else, they had tonight, and they were in no mood to waste it. So they danced and danced and spun and swirled and went around and around and around and around until they were so dizzy they could barely see, and didn't give so much as a single damn.

Out on the roof, high above, the Avatar sat, and saw nothing, and sensed nothing. She sat by a skylight, huddled inside a thick clock, afraid to close her eyes.

* * *

Fun Fact: The best dancer I ever knew was completely, one-hundred-percent blind. True story, and not of the Barry Stinson (I think that's how it's spelled; I couldn't _stand _that show) kind.

Other Fun Fact: The conversation between Toru and Sokka is based on one I had in a bar in Tartu, Estonia, with another young college student who seemed my age. We must've talked for...oh...a couple of hours. I still have no idea what the fuck he was saying, but we seemed to communicate just fine.

Moving on! In the next chapter, we check in with our favorite Crown Prince, and by favorite, I of course mean that I'm pretty sure we all love to hate him. Stay tuned!


	51. THE CROWN PRINCE II

THE CROWN PRINCE

CROWN PRINCE YOSHIHITO, SON OF FIRE LORD IROH, INHERITOR OF GREATNESS, HAD ALWAYS CONSIDERED HIMSELF A KIND, FORGIVING MAN. He knew this for a variety of reasons, all of them, at least to him, perfectly sound. It wasn't even as if he thought such things in a vacuum. Did not his own mother tell him what a kind, easy-going boy he'd always been? Did not his friends constantly go on and on about how relaxed and easy-going he was? And at length, too, completely unbidden! He would uncork the _sake _and the servants would begin filling the cups and the praise would flow! Rarely had been the person who told him otherwise, and who was he to doubt the majority? Would so many people really lie to him? Of course not! He was the Crown Prince, the future Fire Lord! To lie to him was to risk death, and even Yoshihito was aware enough to know his friends and companions were not as brave as _that._

_ As that…_

He frowned. _Where was I? _The thread of his thoughts frayed and danced in the wind. He turned to ask Kojima, but Kojima wasn't there. _Where is that little bastard? _Yoshihito felt that he knew, but the answer hid in clouds of smoke and darkness, just out of reach. He stretched out his hand, felt it brush against his fingertips before dancing away. _Huh_. He let his hand drop. It made a loud _thunk_ on his leg. He frowned at the sound. _What? _He looked up, gazed at his quarters, at the lush trappings, the silhouettes of his guards shifting their weight outside his door, at the smoke drifting lazily through the air…

_The smoke…_

Things begin to shift. He becomes aware of a weight in his lap. He looks down, sees the long silver pipe laying there, runs his fingers over the exquisitely worked metal. He sniffs, and remembers what it is, what he was doing. He greedily, almost desperately, snatches up the pipe. He puts it to his lips. For a moment, he contemplates bending the flame to light the pipe. In a rare moment of wisdom, though, he refrains, instead lighting a long match from the brazier that rests within easy reach. He smiles at his foresight and good sense. After all, if he's learned anything, it's that opium does strange things to one's bending. At least one servant died to teach him that particular lesson.

_Ahhh, that's better…_

He takes a long, deep hit, lets the opium settle into his blood, the thick white smoke curling from his lips and nostrils. He closes his eyes, feels his thought grow light and unencumbered. Doubt and confusion fall away, replaced by confidence and clarity.

_Now, where was I…_

He had been thinking about his day, his long, trying, exhausting day. Breakfast and more inspections and tours of the camp and lunch and bending demonstrations and weapons demonstrations and then he'd needed a nap before the afternoon maneuvers before dinner and-

_That was it!_

He remembered now, remembered why he had been thinking of his qualities as a forgiving, easy-going man. He had been answering the call of nature (or, if one preferred to be specific, _downing a couple shots of fortifying sake_) when he had overheard a couple of men walking by outside, just beyond the wall. He didn't know who they were, only that they were not from among _his_ men (_because how could they be?_), and their speech marked them out as noble-born officers.

"I'm so ready for this bullshit to be over," one said, a sentiment Yoshihito could find no fault with.

"The inspection, or putting up with that prick of a prince?" At this, Yoshihito's ears pricked up.

"Well, one _does_ lead to the other." A pause, while Yoshihito's breath stopped. "You know, I didn't expect much, but I definitely wasn't prepared for our future Fire Lord to be such a useless prat."

"Yeah, well," and here, said _useless prat _could almost _hear_ the shrug, "what'd you expect, that he'd be like Zuko?"

"Hey, can't blame a guy for being optimistic, you know?"

"I suppose not…"

That was all the Crown Prince heard. The men had passed away, and besides, his world was overwhelmed with the roar of the blood rushing in his ears.

_That_ was when Yoshihito knew that he had acted right.

_That_ was when he knew that Kojima was a fool for thinking otherwise.

_That _was when the Fire Lord's son knew, for sure, that the Fire Lord's wayward nephew had to die.

And that brought the Crown Prince back to the beginning, ruminating on forgiveness, or the lack thereof. See, he told himself, it wasn't because he, His Royal Highness Tokugawa Yoshihito, was _vindictive _or anything. Royals had to be _above_ such petty emotions. So, no, he didn't hate his cousin because Zuko, through hard work and determination, was better at so many things. It wasn't that his cousin had managed to turn his disgrace into the beginnings of an excellent military career. Yoshihito didn't even mind that the girls who liked Zuko always seemed to be prettier than the girls who liked him, or that His Majesty had once made an unfavorable comparison between his son and his nephew, or even that, on the day Zuko had been discharged from the hospital and sent into exile, the young man had looked Yoshihito right in the eye and told him, quite clearly, to go fuck himself.

No, none of that mattered. _None of it_. It wasn't a vindictive decision. _It wasn't. _The Crown Prince, after all, was a forgiving man. No, it was all because of politics and survival. Young Zuko was a potential threat, and thus, he had to go. Once he was gone, Yoshihito's father would see the error of his ways, realize that he could only rely on his flesh and blood son, and allow him to abandon this pointless snipe hunt, and leave it in the hands of those who were made for such irksome chores. That was it.

Really.

The Crown Prince took another hit from his pipe, and melted even further into the cushions he had piled on the floor, ever thankful that Kojima was gone, and thus, could not hide the pipe. _Yeah_, he thought, _that's all. That's it. Nothing vindictive at all, just royal politics._

_ I'm in the right. I __**must**__ be. After all, I __**am **__a forgiving man._

_ My mother tells me so._

* * *

You know, I can't quite hate Yoshihito. I really don't know if he's fully aware of what he's doing, or how wrong he is.

For the record, how did he end up this way, with a father like Iroh? Because it's a universal fact of History that great leaders tend to produce frightfully useless offspring. It's just the way of the world.

But enough about Yoshihito toking up when Kojima's not around to stop him. Fluff!

In the next chapter, there's a dance. I hope you're excited. Stay tuned!


	52. THE DANCE

THE DANCE

AROUND MIDNIGHT, THE TENOR OF THE BALL AT THE BEI FONG MANSION CHANGED. It was only to be expected. The festivities were over five hours old. Liquor had flowed, dancing had occurred, mingling had been accomplished. The Lady Bei Fong had even found the opportunity to pull the Lady Arinori Mai aside for a bit of conspiracy in the guise of asking where the Lady Mai had gotten her dress, a break the Lady Mai found most welcome.

In the end, though, people do tend to wear down, wear out. The elderly depart, the middle-aged make their goodbyes, the parents go to check on their children, and before long, all that are left are the young, the unattached, and the newlywed. The band changes, and the music grows faster, more lively, more heated, _more charged_. The dancers get closer together, and when hearts race, it has very little to do with the tempo of the music. The intricate, courtly dances of before are discarded, replaced by movements far, far older. As the party winds down, Lord Bei Fong, as is his habit, even invites the guards and servants down for a few turns on the dance floor.

And in the midst of it all, a red-clad boy and a blue-clad girl, oblivious of the events swirling ever closer to catastrophe in the world around them, pay not the least bit of attention to the so-called _party_. All they know is that they are very pleased to see each other, and loathe to ever part again. So they dance, on and on, content to float in dreams come to life.

It's well past midnight when one Captain Ueno decides that he's had enough. Very quietly, very subtly, he goes over to the bandstand. Once there, he pulls the leader aside, slips him a ten-_yen_ piece, and asks if the band knows a particular Fire Nation song. The leader smiles and bows and says that they do. The Captain smiles back (_he doesn't bow; he's talking to a musician, after all_), hands over another ten-_yen_ coin, and, with a tilt of the head at the young couple no one's stopped talking about (_many wondering when the two will kiss already_), demands that the song be _good_. The band leader, making the two coins disappear, taps a finger to his nose, winks, and relays the directions to his fellow musicians. Satisfied, Captain Ueno steps off the dais, moves to a good vantage point, and watches his magic unfold.

The current song ends, and there's a break. The band leader makes an announcement, about how, after the break, he will play a special song, a personal favorite, and one of the band's specialties. The crowd applauds happily, and all break for the remaining food and drink. It was at one of those increasingly bare tables that young Zuko and young Katara stood, sipping glasses of wine and unable to stop smiling.

He shook his head, having given up the struggle to look and feel like anything but the lovestruck teenager Tsurukawa had accused him of being. "This is…this is absolutely _crazy_, you know that?"

She allows herself a giggle that sounds to him like chimes on a soft spring day, never knowing how hard she has to bite down on a girlish squeak that a ten-year-old girl with a new puppy would be ashamed of. "How do you mean?" She _wants_ the words to come out deep, sultry, sensual, but, to her bemusement, her voice insists on being light and flighty. Not that he notices; he's too busy wondering when his tongue got so big.

_Was it like this the last time? _they wonder.

_Did it feel this way?_

_ Is this new?_

_ Or was this always there?_

_ And do I care either way?_

They, at least, knew the answer to that last question: They cared very much, while, at the same time, caring not at all.

"I haven't the faintest idea," he replied, his eye never leaving hers.

She stepped forward, resting a hand on his chest, wondering if his heart was racing as fast as hers. "Then let's not worry about it. I'm pretty sure, if I remember correctly, that we decided, during our week together, _which didn't happen, of course, _that we both think entirely too much."

He laughed, soft and low, a rumble in the back of his throat that sent a shiver up her spine. "You know, with all we packed into that week, I can't help but wonder how we managed to accomplish what we had originally set out to do."

She washed a giggle down with a sip of wine, reminding herself that, though she seemed to think everything he said was quite clever, she didn't have to _show it_ quite so much. "I just chalked it all up to how we seem to bring out the best in each other."

He took a step towards her, leaned down. With one hand, he cupped her chin, tilted her head up. They could feel each other's breath on each other's lips. Her head swooned, and it was very hard to stay focused.

For his part, as soon as he completed his gesture, he completely forgot what he had meant to say. It took a moment for it to come back to him. "So…um…uh…_yeah_…umm…so…you…uhh…you really think that…from…our one week…?"

To the shock of no one more than herself, her response was quick, and, most amazing of all, confident. "_I know it."_

He blinked, and somehow managed not to gulp. _Somehow. _"Oh? What _else _do you know?"

The hand that was still on his chest began to walk up towards his face. "Come closer," she whispered, "and I'll tell you."

He started to lean in. "I think I'd rather you _showed _me…"

She shrugged. "That can certainly be arranged…"

Before they could get any further, the band leader's voice boomed through the hall. The young couple's eyes turned to the man, though they did not move so much as an inch apart.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to announce that the next song is not just a personal favorite, but a request, as well! While opinions of the Occupation may be mixed –_ no offense_ – all must agree that the people of the Fire Nation know their music! Thus, it is with great pleasure that I both play this next song, and dedicate it to the young officer and his beautiful lady at the table over there!" He turned to the band, said a few words in a backwoods Earth Kingdom dialect none present seemed to know, and, with that, the music began.

Most Fire Nation music is as fiery and dramatic as its people, but, as in all things, there are exceptions. The song that began that night was one of those. The melody was soft and sweet, the notes sliding into and around and through each other with delicate grace, like an ocean at rest, gently lapping at the shore. It was an old Fire Nation favorite, and scattered applause went up from His Majesty's subjects (_such as they were_) at the sound of the first few chords. Immediately, couples began to pair up, Fire Nation citizens, male or female, taking the lead.

Katara doesn't recognize the tune, but she likes it, she likes it very much. Without a word, her and Zuko put their wine glasses down and she places her hand in the proffered crook of his arm. They move to the center of the dance floor, to a space that might as well have been set aside for them. There, Zuko slowly swings her around until they face each other. He raises a hand and, with one smooth gesture, tears off his mask and flings it aside. She smiles, nods, and does the same. All around, the Fire Nation's children are leading their own partners in the same action.

Against their wall, Sokka and Toru watch. Confused, Sokka asks, in tribal dialect, "What's with the taking off of masks?"

In reply, Toru says, in Nihongo, "This is a very old song back home, and it is traditional, if one is wearing a mask, to remove it when this song plays."

To this, Sokka nods. "_Ah_."

As usual, they understand each other _perfectly_, though neither could even begin to explain exactly _how_.

On the dance floor, the ballet continues. Very slowly, very formally, Zuko bows, deep at the waist, while Katara, in deference to the origins of the song, forgoes a curtsy to do the same. They rise, step towards each other. Zuko will lead. He puts a hand on her waist, she rests a hand on his shoulder. Their free hands clasp, arms extended. He smiles. She smiles back.

They begin to move.

Neither are sure that they are breathing.

Their thoughts fade away.

Time stops.

The world seems to revolve around them, watching. At his post, Sokka feels a surge of brotherly love and family pride. His sister is the most beautiful girl at the ball, and, as far as he's concerned, she has snagged the top prize. Chest swelling, he turns to Toru and says, "That's my sister."

Toru bowed his head in return and said, "And that's my best friend."

Sokka understands perfectly, even though he really wished he could figure out what that little sliver of sadness in the corners of Toru's eyes might possibly mean.

Out on the dance floor, Zuko twirls Katara out to the edge of his reach, then twirls her back in so that, for a moment, she is nestled against him, back to his chest, his arms around her. They giggle, then she twirls out and the dance goes on.

It was at this point that, all treason and plotting and intelligence gathering accomplished, the Lady Arinori Mai decided that she had had quite enough, thank you. She left the hall, made her way to her friends. Blinking back tears, she said, in a voice cracked and low, "Alright, that's all there is to that, I think. Can we go now?"

Ty Lee blinked, and took a good look at her friend. "You know what, I was getting pretty tired myself. Shizuka, you coming?"

Azula didn't turn, didn't look away. She couldn't. If she looked at her friend, she would be unable to stay. "After this dance." She grimaced, started to turn. "I'm sorry, I really am, but…"

Mai's hand came down on her shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. "It's okay, I understand, I really do. It's…" A deep, trembling breath, in, out. "It's nice to see him smile."

And then Mai and Ty Lee were gone, and Azula was left alone to watch.

Mai tried very hard not to run out of the mansion, she really did. She tried with every fiber of her being, just as she tried to stop the litany that was running through her head, the litany that said, _He never looked that way at me._

Down on the dance floor, at the edge, Toph Bei Fong did a curious thing. She sat down, removed her shoes, and pressed her bare feet to the floor. All who saw the resulting smile were simply captivated.

Zuko twirls Katara again, only she twirls with the twirl, in such a way that their lips actually _brush_. Watching this move, the Lord Bei Fong pulls his Lady close and, careful to neither muss her make-up or distress her hair, kisses her softly. She tells him that she loves him. He responds in kind.

At some point, all the other couples stopped dancing, turned, and watched. All seemed captivated, and none seemed able to breathe. Even the youngest member of the local branch of the _metsuke_, a junior agent left behind by his older colleagues, a man who _should_ have recognized the young woman (since it was his unenviable task to read all reports, briefs, and memos), was so enthralled that the young woman's face didn't even register. Instead, he watched, spellbound, and thought only of his young wife, back in the Homeland, and how terribly he missed her. He even had his first treasonous thought, when he admitted to himself that he would give anything, _anything at all_, for this pointless, wretched Occupation to end, if only he could go home and share a dance a tenth as sublime as this one.

No one, though, watched more intently than a young princess, now alone on her balcony. She had sunk to the floor, dangling her legs between the railings and resting her head against the cool wood. Tears danced in her eyes, and only a desire not to interrupt kept her from running down to the floor and hurling herself into her brother's arms, where she would sob like a child and feel no shame. _He's smiling. _That's all she could think. _He's smiling, he's smiling, __**he's smiling!**_ A lone tear spilled down her cheek. She wiped it away, closing her mind to all but the dance and the music and the effort to keep her heart from bursting.

Up above, a teenage girl sits, the most powerful being in the world, lost, alone, and very far from home.

She hasn't a clue what to do.

And, while an Avatar waited, a Lady cried, a Princess watched, a Captain felt smug, and a Brother marveled, the dance finally neared its end. The music swelled, while, on the floor, twirling was abandoned. There was only dancing, slow and measured, her arms around his neck, his arms around her waist. They were so close there was not even air left between them, which was fine, since they weren't really breathing. Their foreheads were pressed together, and they knew nothing but each other.

Then, the music ended, and the kiss came, the kiss that everyone had been waiting for, and when it came, the hall erupted into applause. It went on and on, while the spectators cheered and Sokka let out a piercing wolf whistle and the objects of all this attention didn't even notice. They were too busy enjoying a kiss neither had ever known was possible, until they stopped just long enough for one to make a suggestion:

"You know," Katara said, "I have my own room here."

"Lead the way," Zuko replied.

And she did.

* * *

That was sweet. Was that sweet? I thought it was sweet. *tear*

Not all that much to say, other than that that's it for today. Don't worry; you'll get tons of fluff and awesomeness tomorrow. Speaking of which...

In the next chapter, Azula goes back to her friends, offers some comfort, and thinks about her brother. Stay tuned!


	53. AZULA II

AZULA

IT FELT LIKE A LONG TIME BEFORE THE PRINCESS WHO WASN'T MUCH OF A PRINCESS ANYMORE FINALLY GOT BACK TO THE ROOM. When the dance had ended and her brother had ditched the party, his partner on his arm (_or, from the looks of it, him on hers_), she had wiped her eyes, sighed with happiness, and abandoned her post. Down below, the party had drifted into its final act, but she didn't care. Her head was in a cloud, her heart full to bursting. Even the discovery, once she was outside, that the palanquin was gone and, thus, that she would have to walk back, did nothing to dampen her spirits. She took a deep whiff of the world, savored the heady scents of fall in the breeze. The night was glorious, the perfect level of cool, with a hint of a magnificent dawn drifting out from the horizon.

She walked, slow and steady, heedless of the world around her. She had no fear of the darkness, though, to be honest, there wasn't much darkness to be scared of. A thousand-thousand parties were still in full swing, all of them without the class of the one she had left, but just as much joy and vitality. She stopped at a few of them, watching the people swirl around the bonfires. At the city gates, the guards, a pair of city watchmen alongside a pair of soldiers from her brother's unit, made a cursory glance at her papers before waving her through. They were all very friendly and very bored, and when one of the soldiers – who could hardly have been a day over seventeen – made a light-hearted pass at her, she returned it, complete with a wink that reduced the boy to blushing incoherence. The laughter of his comrades warmed Azula's self-confidence all the way back to the inn.

As she slipped in through the servants' entrance, Azula found herself thinking, not for the first time, about just how far she had come in the past year. The inn was a perfect example of that. It was a high-class establishment, specifically designed for members of the nobility. Despite all of its many comforts, though, no royal in their right mind would even _dream_ of setting foot inside.

Despite that, Azula couldn't help but feel that she had moved _up _rather than _down _in the world. What did she need with the trappings of royalty? They were chains, locking her in, preventing her from spreading her wings as far as she could and soaring off into the clouds. No, this was better, being free of the false friends forced upon her by protocol and class.

She had only two friends now, her two best friends in the _world_, on a quest to save the world. What more could she need? She was doing _just fine_.

That is, she was doing _just fine_ right up until Ty Lee opened the door at her knock, and Azula saw the drawn and worried look on her friend's face. Azula sighed, her shoulders slumping, and said, in a soft voice, "That bad, huh?"

Ty Lee looked over her shoulder and leaned in before answering. "_She's smoking._"

Azula grimaced. "_Shit_." Mai never smoked, except when she was very upset, at which times she could put Zuko on a bad day to shame.

Ty Lee nodded. "_Exactly._ We could really use you in here; I can never seem to say the right thing at times like this."

Azula drew herself up, throwing her shoulders back. "Right. Well, let me in; I know what to do."

She found the sight that she had, in many ways, expected to find. Her friend was curled up on the bed, still in her formal clothes. A half-drunk bottle of wine rested on the nightstand, and Azula had to step over an empty one that was rolling around on the floor. Mai's make-up was streaked, long lines of dark mascara dripping down her face. Her hair was a mess, and a cigarette trembled between her fingers. She seemed to have stopped outright crying for the moment, but she was still sniffling, her face was puffy and discolored where the make-up had rubbed off, and her poor eyes were red and washed out.

Azula heaved a sigh and settled herself onto the end of the bed. She folded her legs beneath her, took a cigarette from the pack in Mai's lap, and lit it. She took a few calming puffs, and spared a moment's reflection to mourn her good mood. She spared a glance to the side, where Ty Lee was settling herself into a chair by the bed. The girl looked utterly exhausted. Azula had only to look at her to see that Mai had been inconsolable for some time, probably since the curtains of their palanquin had been drawn closed.

Ty Lee smiled at Azula, and Azula smiled back. Strength exchanged, Azula turned to Mai, and did her best to smile. "Hey, girl."

Mai did not smile; indeed, she didn't even look up. Her gaze remained fixed on the glass of wine clutched firmly in her hand. When she spoke, her voice was thick and choked with tears. "_Hey…"_

Though the time until Azula spoke was only a few seconds, her mind went many places. In those few seconds, she managed to completely run through what had happened in her absence. She saw Mai burst into tears, saw Ty Lee's confusion, saw Ty Lee try to be positive and upbeat, saw this fail. She saw Mai's natural inclination towards doom and gloom and self-flagellation take hold, unabated by Ty Lee's heartfelt pleas and, no doubt, Ty Lee's own distraught tears. She saw confused servants duck in-and-out of the room, delivering wine and tobacco and trying to keep the mess at bay. She saw Ty Lee grow increasingly distraught and frustrated. She even wondered if the temper that Ty Lee kept carefully in check had already flashed, or if the walls were still holding strong. A quick glance at Ty Lee answered that question, the answer being a firm _no, but it was close_.

Her course of action decided, Azula closed her mind and abandoned Kejia in favor of good, old-fashioned Nihongo.

"You know I love you, right?"

Mai blinked. She wiped her nose and sipped her wine and took a final puff of her cigarette before stubbing it out in the nearly full ashtray on the bed. Azula knew she had the girl's attention, because she did not light a new one, and the stubbing was not angry or forceful. "I…uh…what?"

Azula smiled, the smile she reserved for her friends and seemed to be using exclusively these days. "I love you. You're my best friend and I love you. I love you, Ty Lee loves you. Point is, _you're loved. _And you know what?"

"What…?"

"Zuko loves you, too."

Mai flinched as if she had been struck. "But…"

Azula waved the objection aside. "No _buts_. It's the truth. He always thought you were cute and sweet and he loved you to pieces."

Mai's face hardened, jealousy flashing in her eyes. "But…that _girl_…"

Azula laughed. "That girl? She's the kind of girl he always _really _wanted. Someone he didn't _have _to be with, and who didn't _have _to be with him. They like each other and chose each other. It was due to no deficiency on your part that he danced with her and never even noticed you."

Mai hung her head and wiped her eyes. "I know…"

That caught Azula off guard. "Wait…you do…?"

Mai laughed, cold and bitter. "You remember Chieko?"

Azula frowned. "Umm…"

Mai sighed. "Did you see that other officer, the one that Zuko was standing with when that girl went up to him, who leaned against the wall all night?"

Azula nodded. "Yeah, that was Toru, Zuko's friend from the Academy. I made sure they were assigned to the same unit together."

Mai nodded. "Just the one. Well, Toru has a twin sister, Chieko, and one year, the year Zuko spent the summer at the Watanabe estate…"

"They had a thing," Azula finished. She knew, not least because she had spent a couple weeks there herself that summer.

Mai shrugged. "Sure, a _thing_. Point is…I went through the same thing when I found out. I cried, and I wailed, and I had a fit, but…I knew that it wasn't me, that it wasn't _about me_, that…well…there was only one thing to blame."

Azula tilted her head. "Who?"

Finally, Mai looked up, and their eyes met.

"Your family."

It was Azula who looked away. "_Oh…"_

In the chair, Ty Lee perked up, rejoining the conversation. "Wait…you're not sad…?"

Mai laughed, and her two friends breathed mental sighs of relief. _She's going to be okay_, they thought, and felt foolish for ever thinking otherwise.

"Of _course_ I'm sad!" Mai said, her voice only now beginning to sound like her own. "I carry a torch for Zuko, and always will. Yeah, I know, it's just teenage puppy love, but _whatever_, I love him, and tonight, I saw him look at some barbarous peasant the way I still dream he'll someday look at me. So, yeah, _I'm sad_, and jealous, and upset, and a thousand other stupid things that I know are stupid. But…mostly?" She turned back to Azula. "I'm angry. I'm angry that your family created a world, a situation, where I never had a chance. They created a set of circumstances such that I would _never _have the opportunity to have the happy ending I wanted. And so I'm sad, and angry, and upset, but most of all? _I'm vengeful. _I'm more determined than _ever _to topple the Tokugawas from their perch." She wiped her eyes one more time, and sighed. "And all because of a boy…which is silly and dumb and beneath me, but there it is. I'm going to betray my country over a _boy_, and that thought makes me sad all over again…"

Just like that, Azula's carefully thought-out plan of action went out the window. Without thinking, she leaned over, stubbed out her cigarette, and crawled to Mai's side. On the other side, Ty Lee did the same and the two girls enveloped their friend in the most incredible of hugs. They showered Mai in kisses and nuzzles her cheeks and soon they all had glasses full of wine.

"Hey," Azula said, "it's alright. Big things always start out small, and for stupid reasons, too. We'll come up with something better when the history books are written."

"Exactly," Ty Lee said, her voice bubbly again, her cheek pressed to Mai's own. "What, you think I'm going to cop to the fact that the only reason I committed treason was because I didn't want my two best friends to do it alone? _Please._"

Mai nodded, doing nothing to push her friends away. "Okay…but…can we at least rip on that girl for a bit? I need to get this jealousy out of my system." She rounded on Ty Lee and glared. "And yes, Ty, _I know_, she's probably a wonderful person and I'll probably end up liking her."

Ty Lee laughed. "Hey, forget rationality. If it'll make you feel better, I'll rip until the sun comes up." She looked to Azula, and winked. "What about you, Zula?"

And, despite the fact that Azula had liked the dark-skinned Water Tribe girl the moment she laid eyes on her, the princess didn't even blink. "Fuck yeah, I mean, did you _see _her hair…?"

* * *

E.M. Forster once said, _"If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guys to betray my country." _That quote, when I heard, pretty much changed my life. That's how I feel, I really do. If someone put a gun to my head and said, _America or your best friend, _I pray to _God _that I'll have the strength to tell them to go fuck themselves.

I feel like this chapter is a perfect exemplar of that. It's also an example of how I really hate fics that shit on Mai, because fuck that shit. You don't like a ship? No reason to get pissy about it. Upset? Sure. Annoyed? Definitely. Feel that the show copped out and went the easy path when it could've gone for something far more interesting and challenging? Hell, we've had conversations like that in the reviews. No reason to be mean.

Except for Jet. Jet's an asshole. _But I digress..._

Enough about that. Sorry for the late updates. It was..._a weird day. _But you're getting stuff now! Give me awesome reviews for the morning!

In the next chapter, Sokka finds Korra, and delivers a motivational speech as only he can, and we finally begin to heal. Stay tuned!


	54. SOKKA II

SOKKA

HE WASN'T ENTIRELY SURE HOW HE GOT ON THE ROOF. He sat there, legs dangling off the edge, feet kicking back and forth, trying to piece it all together. He remembered his sister dragging Zuko off towards where all their rooms where. He remembered feeling just a tiny bit queasy at the sight, and wondering how long he could keep from heading back there. He even remembered that Watanabe guy trying to say _good evening _with a bow, and pulling the dude into a big bear hug that made the other two officers who had come to collect him burst into hysterical laughter. And then…

_And then…_

_ What did I do next…?_

There was a sack sitting on the roof beside him. He reached in, felt a couple of bottles clinking and clattering around inside. His fingers fumbled about, closing on one of them. He took it out, pulled the cork with his teeth, spit out the cork, and took a nice, long swig. He wiped his lips, belched, giggled, belched again, then…

_Then…_

_ Shit, what'd I do with the cork?_

He remembered. _Ah. _Concluding that there was nothing for it but to just keep drinking, he took another gulp. The world spun a little bit, wobbling, like heat waves rising up on a hot day. He reached up, ran a hand over his head, was pleased to discover that his wolf-tail was still in place. He held up the bottle, shook it, smiled at the level of alcohol that remained, and then…

That's when he heard the sniffle.

_The hell? _He looked around, eyes darting to and fro, an action he instantly regretted. The world tilted and swirled, and he screwed his eyes shut. He waited until the roaring receded from his ears before he opened them again.

The moon was high, about half-full, and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. Everything was bathed in an almost ethereal, milky white glow. The night was full to bursting with the sound of a thousand-thousand insects chirping away. Muffled voices, in languages he didn't understand, drifted up from the darkness below. He found himself hoping that his sister had closed her window, and then his thoughts started lurching in a direction he didn't particularly want them to go and he lifted his bottle and gulped them away.

Another sniffle, a sniffle and a sigh and a breath that rattled in the back of a throat choked with tears.

_I know that sound…_

Just as he wasn't entirely sure how he ended up on the roof, he would never be fully certain how he stood up. Somehow, he managed, lurching to his feet and snatching up the bag of bottles before – as carefully as possible – staggering his way across the roof. At first, he didn't know where he was going; he just fumbled his way in the vague direction of the sound of crying. After a few steps, he saw her, a shadow huddled in the moonlight, shivering and shaking by a skylight. He recognized her instantly.

He almost turned on his heel and walked away.

He hated himself for a long time for that.

It took some time to get there, but he managed. He plopped down beside her, setting the bag between them. He sat there for what felt like a long time, taking periodic sips from his bottle, struggling to figure out what to say. If Korra noticed, she didn't give any sign of it. She just continued to huddle there, wrapped up in a thick cloak, trembling like a leaf, crying as quietly as she could.

In the end, he realized that there was only one thing he could do. He may not have been much of a protector, or all that successful of a warrior, and he _definitely_ shouldn't be trusted as a guide, but, _gods-dammit_, he was good at being a _brother_, and a brother was what was needed. Forget the Avatar, forget the world, forget all of that. The only child beside him needed a brother, and that was just what he was going to be.

He slid over beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her in, gave her a squeeze. "Hey, kid. What're you doing up here, and all by yourself, too?" He waited for a few moments, then went on. "You know, this has to be, like, one of the best spots in this whole gods-forsaken place. I mean, look at that view! I bet, when the sun's up, you can see, like, _everything_." He took a drink, rolled the liquid around in his mouth, before performing a theatric swallow. "Shit, if you'd told me you were coming up here, I'd have skipped the party and come with you. Sis didn't really need me around, anyways. Second her and Zuko clapped eyes on each other, it was like I didn't even exist. Should've seen it coming, really."

That seemed to finally get Korra's attention. She looked up, eyes red and puffy. She wiped her nose with the hem of her clock, and said, in a hoarse, cracked voice, "Zuko was there?"

He nodded, putting on his best _Indulgent Big Brother _smile. "You bet. Like I said, should've seen it coming. It's like the gods have some kind of plan for those two or something."

"Do you…do you think she loves him?"

He gave a dramatic shrug. "Eh, I don't know if I'd go _that _far. I'd say it was more _intense connection at first sight _than _love at first sight_. Sometimes these things happen, you know? You clap eyes on someone, you get that weird feeling in the depths of your soul, and you know, you just _know_, that there's something…_different_, about the way you feel about them."

"Like…like you and Yue?"

He didn't mind the question. If anything, he was prepared for it. Maybe it had been coming all this time? Maybe this was all fate, all destiny, wheels locking into place like the cogs in a steam engine on a Fire Nation ship. Maybe this roof was always waiting for him, this roof on this night, looming in his future. The roof, the stars, the moon, the Avatar…

_No._ He shook his head. _Not the Avatar. Never the Avatar. Her name is __**Korra**__, and she needs me, and that's that. _

"You remember when we first saw her?"

She gave a soft, strangled giggle. _There we go, that's more like it. _"Yeah…you went all weird and ga-ga. Katara and I kept making weird faces at you, but you didn't notice. You were too busy staring."

He chuckled. "Yeah…that was me, all of twenty-three-years-old at the time, swooning like a teenager."

"It was pretty silly…"

"Yeah, but that's how life is." He sighed, and, for the first time since he could remember, looked up at the moon. Tears burned in his eyes, seemingly out of nowhere. He blinked them away, and finally, fully allowed himself to smile. "You know, she's just as beautiful now as she ever was. It's like…you know, sometimes, it's like I can actually _see her_. Like, I _know _it's just the moon, the same old moon, right? Only the _spirit _of it is different. But…it just looks different to me, you know?" He laughed, shaking his head as he took another drink. "Ah, I'm not making a lick of gods-damn sense, am I?" He held up the bottle and rattled it. _Where's it all going? It's like there's a whole in it or something… _"I blame the booze."

"Can I have some?"

Out of instinct, he looked around, and laughed at himself, because Katara was, without a doubt, fully occupied, and besides, right now? _She's probably in such a good mood she'd pass the girl the bottle herself. _"Sure, I don't see why not." He handed it over, and she took a very hesitant, very small sip. She turned bright red and gagged and spluttered. It was hard not to laugh. "Careful; that stuff will put hair on your chest."

She cracked a grin. "Is that why you drink so much of it?"

"Heh…touché, kid, touché." He gave her an appraising once-over while she took another tiny sip. "It's nice to hear you cracking wise again."

She shrugged, handed over the bottle, and burrowed deeper into her cloak. "Yeah…well…I…I'm…" She burrowed deeper, and he waited. She sniffled, and he waited.

Somehow, when she continued, he wasn't surprised.

"_Roku came to see me_," she whispered.

He grimaced. "_Ah._"

It all came tumbling out. Everything, every little piece of every doubt and fear and hurt and pain, all the things that she had been holding back, holding in, clutching to the shreds of a tattered soul, torn to pieces by an uncaring god, bent on vengeance. She told him about how it had seemed to make so much sense, to attack those Fire Nation soldiers in the North, to ignore Arnook's and Katara's and Sokka's and Yue's pleading. So what if Zhao was only there for a show-of-force, and would be gone within a week or two? _She had to do __**something. **_She's spent too long running. _She couldn't run again._

And then it all fell apart, and everything went wrong, and there was blood and death and she didn't understand, and the moon was dead and it was all over and then La's voice, so soft, so warm, so understanding, it was so simple, _so simple…_

She had fallen silent. It was all happening before his eyes again. The cave, the Spirit Oasis, _the real one_, the one all others among the Water Tribes imitated, Yue cradling Tui in her arms, Zhao beaten to the ground by his own horrified soldiers, Sokka, frozen into place, watching Korra on her hands and knees…

_Talking to a koi fish…_

And then the world flashed blue and…_and…_

_ He still didn't understand what had happened…_

"What did it feel like?"

She sniffed, wiping her eyes with her cloak. "It…I don't know how to describe it. It was…_horrible_. Like my very _essence _was being ripped apart. It was like…_I wasn't even me anymore_. Part of me saw, saw that the Fire Nation soldiers were all surrendering, they were frightened and terrified and falling to their knees, and then the moon came back, and I tried to tell La, but it was like I couldn't, I couldn't open my mouth, _because I had no mouth_, and…and…_my body wasn't my own…"_

He didn't hesitate. He turned and wrapped his arms around her and pulled in close and tight. "Hey, it's over, it's okay. Katara and I won't ever let that happen again."

"But what if I don't have a choice? What if none of this is my choice?"

He frowned. "Is that what Roku tried to tell you?"

She nodded into his chest. "I think so…I don't know…I don't really understand. It was like…he was _threatening me_. Aang came, and told me I had a choice, but then Roku came and threw that all away, and…and…_I don't know…" _She burrowed in deeper. "I'm just so confused, and _so scared…"_

There were many moments in his life when he ended up wishing he'd been sober. This was not one of those times. If he'd been sober, he would've done something wrong, messed everything up. He would've cracked a joke, made a face, stuck his foot in his mouth, _something fucking stupid_, since that was, as his sister liked to point out, his general mode of operation.

But tonight (_or was it morning?_), he was three sheets to the wind. His heart was open and his mind was free and his _big brother instincts _were out in full force. So, he didn't do what he'd usually do. He just grabbed her by the face, pressed his forehead to hers, and put on his best smile.

"Korra, I'm not going to tell you to not be scared, because that's silly and stupid and, to be honest, half the time _I'm_ the one who's scared shitless. But, here's the thing, and I don't give a flying _fuck_ what Roku or Aang or anyone else says: _You always have a choice. _Say the word, and we'll quit this whole fucking quest and go live in the gods-damn woods. Who knows? Maybe the world can figure its bullshit out on its own."

She gave him a weak smile. "You really mean that…?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're accusing me, Sokka Hakodason, of not saying what I mean? _Please._ As if _that_ would ever happen."

She giggled. "But…aren't you the _King of Sarcasm?_"

"Hey, even when I'm being sarcastic, I'm still saying what I mean…just…_creatively_."

"Heh…you're weird, you know that?"

"Meh, it's what I do. Eat, be sarcastic, shoot for girls out of my league, and be weird."

"Motivational speeches, too, it seems."

"Eh, I'd leave that up to Katara from now on, to be brutally honest."

"I dunno…I appreciated the f-bombs."

"Heh…" He hugged her hard, then pulled away, holding her at arm's length. "You're a good kid, you know that? Don't ever forget that. And don't forget: _There's always a choice._"

She nodded, wiping her eyes. "Okay…" She took a deep breath, slowly let it out, hugged herself tight as a shiver ran through her body. "I…I feel better now…"

He smiled. "I'm glad!"

"Did you really mean it, about this being a nice spot?"

"I did! I could stay here all night!"

"Yeah…me, too…can we go now?"

"Fuck yes."

They had just crawled in through a window when Korra, an introspective look on her face, turned to him and asked, "You think it's safe to go back to our rooms?"

He pondered that for a moment, and instantly wished he didn't. He shook the resulting images away, and had to brace himself against a wall as his alcohol-addled vision went for a spin. The sight apparently struck Korra as amusing, since it was her giggling that guided him back into the light. He would've thanked her for that, if he wasn't busy shooting her a glare.

As for her question…

"You know what? What say we go see if we can rustle up some grub."

She seemed like she was going to say something else, but then changed her mind. "You know what? That might be a good idea. Maybe Lobsang's rattling around somewhere."

Which was how Sokka ended up on the floor of the kitchen, back to the wall, scooping leftover cake into his mouth with his fingers, giggling with the Avatar herself.

* * *

I really liked that. I like Sokka best when he's being the goofy big brother, rambling out some nonsense that somehow makes perfect sense and is perfect for the occasion. And that's what he just did, and it worked.

This is one of the times when I'm really glad I substituted Korra for Aang in this fic. Aang's not one to ponder on things; he's just too flighty, you know? And in some ways, that's a good thing, but in others, a bad one. Korra's the kind to take her mistakes to her heart and try to learn from them, no matter how painful it is. She doesn't run away; that's not her style.

On the other hand, she's a fifteen-year-old kid in this story, and that means she's not very good at that yet. Sometimes, you just need a big brother to snap you out of it.

And sometimes, that big brother needs you to do the same for him.

*sniff*

In the next chapter, Zuko and Katara play a game, and we get some fluff. Stay tuned!


	55. KATARA XIII

KATARA

THE FIRST TIME AROUND, THERE HAD NOT BEEN OPPORTUNITY FOR GAMES. Now, though, she was determined to make up for lost time, which was why, when they had taken a moment to gasp for breath, drink some water, and cool off, she noticed his battle scars, and he noticed hers. Mischievous sheens had sparkled in their eyes, and next thing either knew, they were sprawled over one another, tracing scars and telling stories.

The current target of her interest was a long, straight scar, from his shoulder to his elbow on his left arm. Her bed was big enough for her to lay across the width, and she took advantage of that to examine the object in question. Zuko was propped against some pillows, smoking and examining one of her calves, while she lay on her back, head pillowed upon the sea of her hair. She held his arm above her, and she traced the aforementioned scar delicately with her fingertips, delighting at the visible chills it sent through his body.

"So," she said, feeling very much like a particularly well-fed cat, "what's the story with this one?"

He frowned at her calf. "Hey, now, I'm pretty sure it was _your _turn."

She giggled. "No, I'm pretty sure of just the opposite. Of course," she continued in a flippant tone, "who can say, considering how you decided to distract me after the last round…"

He rolled his eyes. "Ugh, _fine._ It's my turn." He took a breath, completely missing (_or so she hoped_) Katara's triumphant smile. See, it _had_ been her turn, but she just really liked Zuko's voice, and besides, he had more scars, so, _really_, it was just about keeping the pace even.

_Honest._

"Well," he began, "not long after you helped me bring in Jet, an entire province in the northeast rose up in open revolt. And not extra raids, either, full on rebellion."

She pursed her lips, letting his arm down enough to entwine one of her hands with his. "You know, I've always wanted to ask: What's the difference?"

"How do you mean?"

"You know, between _fighting guerillas _and _open revolt_? Seems academic, to me."

"Ah. Well…guerillas are normal for us, especially away from the big cities and the major roads. It's all about the attrition, slow and draining. They hit a random patrol, an isolated outpost, attack a settlement, murder some noble, ambush a column, sabotage supplies, shit like that. They hit us, we chase them, try to hit them back, sometimes we win, sometimes they do, sometimes no one even dies, sometimes tons of people die…"

"And on and on it goes."

"Pretty much."

"Sounds pointless."

"It's _exceedingly _pointless. We can't beat them, and they can't beat us. It's basically a question of who gives up first."

"Who's your money on?"

"Us. My uncle is holding things together, but even now, the cracks are starting to appear. And when my cousin takes over? _Forget it. _We'll be out of the war and back to the good ole' days of chaos and disorder within a generation."

"Pessimistic much?"

"Nah, just realistic."

She popped up and gave him what she hoped was a mind-blowing kiss, because gods know it made _her _toes curl. She pulled back, breathing hot on his face, and was _very _pleased to see his good eye glaze over a bit. "So," she asked huskily, "still feeling pessimistic?"

He grinned and delivered a kiss of his own. "Not about this. I _like _this."

She sighed happily. "Me, too." She laid back down, settled herself, and resumed holding his hand. "So, open revolt…"

He blinked and shook himself, and she silently crowed with triumph. "Uh…_right_…so…um…" He cleared his throat, shot her a glare, and pressed on. "So, open revolt can happen for a variety of reasons, but it's basically what happens when rebels move from small bands to actual armies in the field. It can happen very suddenly, and can be anything from a mob of peasants to organized troops, with banners and everything. Anyways, one of those revolts happened not long after the Jet thing."

"Why?"

He gave her a look. "Why do you think?"

She wilted a bit, and found herself nuzzling him for some warmth. "Oh…" _They heard the Avatar was back. _She sighed. _Two years, and all we bring is more death. _"So, the scar…"

"Right." He squeezed her hand, and pulled her up until she was nuzzling right into his chest and he was playing with her hair. "Fortunately for us, it was a relatively small one, and the leaders were pretty incompetent. They had jumped the gun, managed to alienate anyone who wasn't in their particular ethnic group, spent as much time fighting other rebels as they did fighting us. Their armies weren't much of a much, either, though they made up for lack of skill with sheer willpower. In the end, we had them cornered in this old fortress. Word came down that the _powers that be_ wanted it taken immediately. We wanted to just wait it out, but orders were orders, so we stormed the place. It got bloody, and before it was over, some asshole had done his best to slice my arm off."

"Leaving you with a bitching scar," she ended.

He laughed. "I suppose." He paused, deep in thought, while the movement of his fingers through her hair lulled her into a trance-like state. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Seems only fair, since I just stole two on you."

"Heh…I knew it."

"Problem?"

"I'll punish you later."

"Promises, promises…"

"Hush. Anyways…how can you listen to me talk about stuff like this? How can you not hate me? I mean…I'm on the other side, killing people on _your _side…I mean…how can you even _like me_ as much as I hope you do?"

To her surprise, she didn't have to think about it at all. "Do you enjoy it?"

He gave her a look. "What, being in the army, or the war stuff?"

"The war stuff."

He didn't hesitate. "Gods no. I hate it. I want nothing more than for this all to end, so I can go serve my country _in my country_. Give me boring drills and practice marches over anti-guerilla sweeps _any _day."

She smiled, and planted a kiss into the crook of his collarbone. "And that's why I can like you, why I can listen to you. You help me stay grounded, to remember that I'm not at war with the _people_ of the Fire Nation, so much as I'm at war with their leaders. I mean…you really are the case in point. Take the guy that gave you this scar. Did you kill him?"

He made a face. "Yeah…"

"Why?"

"Well…if I hadn't, he would've killed me, and then I wouldn't be here, snuggling with you. I'd never see my sister again, I'd never see my Homeland again, my friends…"

"So, you did what you had to do."

"I wish I didn't have to."

"We all do. It's like…" She raised a hand, laid it on his chest, began tracing little patterns in his skin. "It's like…the whole world's gone _mad_. Everyone's fighting this war, but no one wants to. Everyone's invested so much effort and sweat and blood and tears, that they can't stop. They have to see how it ends."

"And there's my family, at the top of everything, pushing everyone down the road to hell."

"You really feel that way?"

"I do. That's why, the sooner you get Korra trained up, the sooner this all ends. And, well, the sooner the day comes when I don't have to write another letter home to another mother, the happier I'll be."

She nuzzled in deep. The night was quiet cool, but she only had a thin blanket covering her, and even that was unnecessary. _Sleeping with a firebender has its perks, that's for sure_, she thought with a grin. "I'd give anything for us to be on the same side."

He nuzzled the top of her head. "You and me, both."

The feeling that statement gave her was very unadultlike, and she was suitably ashamed of it, all while not being ashamed at all. "Let's do this again."

He laughed. The way the sound rumbled in his chest and tickled against her ear made electric shocks shoot up and down her spine. "Right now, or later?"

She giggled. "Why not both?"

"I'm on board with that."

"But I'm serious. Your unit's here for…what, two weeks?"

"Thereabouts."

"And we're definitely stuck here for a while."

"So we should try to meet as often as possible?"

"You stole the words right out of my mouth."

"Well, what's fair for the pig-chicken is fair for the badgermole."

"Heh…true…and every time we see each other, we have to ask each other a question. It can be about anything, anything at all."

He seemed to roll it around his head for a moment. "Can it be serious?"

"It can be…it can also be completely trivial. I want us to know each other as much as possible, before we part."

"So…basically…you're saying that I'm your boyfriend until my unit leaves Gaoling?"

"Pretty much. Problem?"

"Heh…not in the least."

"Good. So, first question…"

"We're starting now?"

"No time like the present! But yeah, first question…what's your favorite color?"

He sighed, and shook his head. "You're not going to believe me…"

Her hand began drifting down his chest. "Try me…"

"Heh…well, my favorite color is blue."

Her hand stopped. "You're right; I don't believe you."

"It's true! I guess because you don't see it all that often back home, but…_yeah_, my favorite color is blue. Not just any blue, either; it has to be that deep, deep blue, like, it's almost black, and it has that deep, rich, shimmering quality to it."

_Okay, so he's not just being cute. I like it._ Out loud, she said, "Alright, that's acceptable. Your turn."

"What're you doing Friday night?"

"Why Friday?"

"Because we drew straws for which of the officers got that night off with the half of the company that had earned a night pass, and I won. Though, personally, I can't help but think they rigged it, because they do that, the guys, because I never get leave and never apply for a pass and-"

"Are you asking me out on a legit date?" she cut in.

"I…_think so…? _I've never actually asked someone out before…"

She rolled her eyes and pecked him on the cheek. "You're cute, you know that? It's ridiculous. Also, I expect to be picked up, here at the mansion, at seven o'clock sharp. Oh, and wear your dress uniform."

He groaned. "Do I have to…?"

She didn't respond with words, _per se_. No, she just looked up at him, and batted her eyes, and bit her lip.

He wilted within a second. But that was okay, because she rewarded him promptly.

* * *

That was just fucking _cute, _you guys. Don't you think so? I do.

A lot of questions got answered in this, all of them important, and, somehow, this chapter was pertinent to the plot. I'm not entirely sure _how _I managed that; I just did.

But that, I think, is enough for tonight. I'm a good twenty chapters ahead of you by now, but it's time to get ready for bed. I'm sure you guys are _devastated._

But trust me: The shit that's coming down the pike here? It's going to be _off the fucking hook, you guys. _Like, _no joke._

But enough for now: In the next chapter, a bookie takes a surprising bet. Stay tuned!


	56. THE BOOKIE

THE BOOKIE

LUO GUANZHONG'S FIRST CUSTOMER WASN'T REALLY A CUSTOMER. He opened early, well before dawn, trudging down to his little hole-in-the-wall and beginning the process of setting everything up. His two eldest sons, Ben and Sanren, bustled about, hardly needing any direction from him. They worked in silence, Luo's pipe clasped firmly between his teeth. He was in the process of filling out the chalk board with fighters' names and the prevailing odds when he heard a throat cleared.

He stepped off of his stool, slapping his hands against his apron to get the chalk dust off. He turned on his heel to discover two very young-looking Fire Nation soldiers. Luo heaved a mental sigh, and schooled his face into a blank slate. _No reason to get upset_, he berated himself. _They probably just want to make a bet. _

He bowed, and the two soldiers bowed back. He was delightfully surprised to see that they gave him a proper bow, too; whoever their commanding officer was, he obviously kept them well-disciplined. _Maybe these soldiers won't be so bad. It'd be a nice change._ One of the soldiers spoke to the other in their strange, guttural-sounding language. The second soldier nodded, then turned to Luo, bowed his head, and said, in rather terrible Guangzhou, "Um…pardon…uh…_sir_…uh…why you…er…early open?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Luo spotted Sanren start to bristle and set his shoulders, as if he was going to march out and give the soldiers a piece of his mind. Luo stopped him with a glare, and Sanren huffed and went back to his sweeping. Focusing on the soldier who had spoken, Luo said, taking care to speak very clearly, "Well, it's the first day of the fights. The first fight is at nine, and so we have to open very early to take all the bets."

It took a while for Luo to get this across. Strangely, he ended up getting the impression that the solider who spoke to him was the one who spoke Guangzhou, while the soldier who didn't speak it somehow seemed to understand it better. _Strange, how that works. _Once everything was settled, the soldiers put their heads together, babbling back-and-forth in their language, which always sounded to Luo a bit like thunder rumbling in a distant storm. When they turned back, the soldier who did the talking had two ten-_yen_ coins in his hand.

"Um…you put on…er…_Boulder_, yes?"

Luo smiled and snatched up the coins. "Twenty _yen_ on the Boulder, and a very fine bet, if I might say." He made out a claim ticket for them, using the special form for people who couldn't read or write. After much gesticulation, he managed to get them to sign their names, writing them out phonetically on the back so, if they came back when he was out, his sons would be able to cash any winnings. Everything done, bows were exchanged, and the two soldiers went off, seeming very pleased with themselves.

Sanren was shaking with rage by the time Luo turned his attention back to the chalk board. He stormed up to his father, stomping his feet as only an irritated seventeen-year-old could do. "Father, I can't believe you took their money."

Luo shrugged. He wasn't a fan of the Occupation, not by a long shot (and he still bore a burn scar across his back from his service in the War), but the soldiers had been polite enough, and their unit seemed to be behaving themselves. "Why shouldn't I?" he said, frowning as he wrote out one of the more ridiculous fighter's names. "Money is money, after all."

Sanren was not to be appeased. "But it's _Fire Nation money_, Father."

Luo rolled his eyes. "We all use Fire Nation money these days. Until the Occupation finally ends and those flame-eaters go back where they come from, it's just a fact of life. And besides, they seemed nice enough boys; they probably weren't much older than you."

Sanren made a noise that sounded remarkably like a growl. "But, Father, they're _Fire Nation_."

Luo stopped. He sighed, and turned to look down on his son. Sanren was a good boy, a lot like Luo, really, when he was that age. _Which is what worries me_. Luo had been about seventeen, when he'd run off to join the Imperial Army. His first battle still haunted him. _The worst years of my life, that's what those were. _

"Listen, son," he said, reaching down and resting a hand on the boy's shoulder, "you know I have no love for the Occupation. But those two boys were just two boys, and they probably want to be here about as much as we want them here. So they asked a question, then placed a bet, and were very polite about it. So what? And besides, Lord Bei Fong asked everyone not to make trouble, and refusing to take their bet would've caused trouble."

"Besides," Ben called from the back, where he was whipping up some quick breakfast, "it's not like they spoke or understood enough Guangzhou to even be able to realize if they were being turned down!"

Sanren sighed, a sad look on his face. "Well…alright, Father. I just…don't like it."

Luo laughed. "And you don't have to. Now…well, I'll be damned."

The cause of Luo's exclamation was the appearance, seemingly out of nowhere, of a very ornate palanquin with the white winged boar of the Bei Fongs emblazoned on its side. Luo quickly called Ben out from the back, and the man and his two sons together bowed deep as Lord Bei Fong himself stepped into their shop. Lord Bei Fong smiled, and returned the bows, before walking up and clapping Luo on the shoulder.

"Good morning, old friend!" he said.

Luo smiled. "Good morning, my lord! How are you this morning? Can I get you anything? My son was just making tea and some breakfast…"

Lord Bei Fong shook his head. "Oh, no, that won't be necessary. I'm actually here to place a bet."

Luo's eyes went wide. "_You_, my lord? Since when did _you_ start betting on the games?"

Lord Bei Fong winked. "I have my reasons. Now, I'd like to place ten-thousand _yen_ on the Blind Bandit to win."

It took a moment for Luo to recover from the shock. "To win? As in…the first round?"

Lord Bei Fong laughed. "No! The whole tournament! And if I were you, I'd get in on this action before anyone else does. Trust me, the Blind Bandit is going to take it all!"

Luo could only shake his head. "I'm sorry, my lord, but I can't let you make this bet. It's only the second year for the Blind Bandit, and she choked in the quarter-finals last year."

Lord Bei Fong nodded, looking introspective. "Yes, that's how it looked, didn't it? Well, don't worry. Even if she loses, I can afford it, and I can assure you, this year? _She's not going to lose. _Trust me."

Luo shrugged and spread his hands in resignation. "Well, my lord, if you're sure…I'll place your bet." As he sent Sanren to fetch a claim ticket and put the money in the strongbox, Lao asked, "If it's not impertinent of me…does my lady know about this bet?"

Lord Bei Fong burst into hysterics. "Does she _know?! _Half the money is hers!"

That settled it. There was no way Luo could talk Lord Bei Fong out of placing a massive bet on a fighter in her second year of competition. Hell, the odds were 20:1 against her just getting out of the first round! Though, now that he thought about it…maybe a small bet wouldn't be so foolhardy…

After all, if Lord Bei Fong was so sure…

_Hmm…_

* * *

Fun Fact: Luo Guanzhong was the courtesy name of the guy who we think wrote _Romance of the Three Kingdoms_. _Ben _was, apparently, his actual given name, and _Sanren _was part of one of his pseudonyms. Pretty cool, right? I love a good shout-out.

Also, for the record, Toph totally didn't choke the year before this. She was just warming up, and threw that match to keep from attracting too much attention before she was ready to take it all.

This chapter is also fun, besides the shout-outs and the Bei Fongs being cool for once in a fic, for the way it gives an insight into how the common people of the Earth Kingdom really feel about the Occupation. And this is one of the _quieter _regions. Think on that.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Zuko heads back to his room, and finds out why having a few idiot friends is important. Stay tuned!


	57. ZUKO XV

ZUKO

THE LAST THING THEY HAD TALKED ABOUT WAS THEIR PLANS FOR THE WEEK. They both had a lot of things to do, and responsibilities to see to, but at the end of the day, they were both determined, and when two people like them are determined, there's not much that's going to stand in their way.

He was slipping on his dress uniform shirt when he got the idea. He snapped his fingers, and asked, "Hey, do you have, like, some paper and a pen and ink?"

She thought about it for a moment, the gasped and, wrapping herself up in one of the sheets from the bed, dived into the nightstand. From there, she drew out what he'd asked for and handed them over. He bent over the vanity, sparing only a moment to look at his image in the mirror. _Gods, that topknot has to be the worst one I've ever tried to tie. Yeesh. _

"What're you writing?" she asked, leaning over to look over his shoulder, carefully tying the blanket in place as she did.

He smiled. "I'm writing you out a temporary pass. I'll be patrolling the stadium area today and tomorrow, but Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I'm on night duty, which means I'll be in the camp all day. If you want, you can come visit me. Just present this to the sentries, and they'll wave you through." He finished writing, and handed the paper over to her with a triumphant flourish. "After you come the first time, I'll make out a more official one."

She examined the paper closely, nibbling her lips in a way that made his head swoon a bit. "How will they know for sure it was you who wrote this for me, that I didn't just make it up?"

He laughed. "Well, for one, some of the boys are bound to recognize you. For another…well…let's just say that my handwriting is infamously terrible."

She giggled. "Really? It looks fine to me."

"Well, trust me. If you read Nihongo, you'd be appalled."

"I dunno," she said, batting her eyes at him, "I think it's kind of endearing."

He swallowed hard and tried his best to remember that he had things to do today. Things. _Things. Duty. __**Things. **_"Yeah…well…uh…heh…" _Ah, fuck it. _With that conclusion reached, he grabbed her shoulders, pulled her to him, and kissed her again.

The kiss lasted for quite some time.

He was halfway back to camp before his mind settled down again. He couldn't wipe the grin off his face, and he felt like dancing. He felt stupid and ridiculous and just out of his fucking _gourd_, but he didn't care. He was Zuko, former prince, decorated officer, and he was actually _skipping down the path to camp seriously oh my __**GODS!**_

He stopped, shaking his head as he pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit it. He took a long, calming drag, turning to face the direction of the sun. It wasn't up yet, but it was definitely coming. Crickets chirped and the morning birds were just beginning to sing. The sky was a brilliant shade of purple and dark blue, the horizon just a hint of the glory to come. Stars sparkled overhead, and the moon was just beginning to slide out of sight.

_Gods_, he thought, resting one hand on the hilt of his _katana_, _this really is, just, a gorgeous country_. He still couldn't believe how _big_ it was. Every time his Regiment marched, he ended up being surprised. From the sparkling waters of the Eastern Sea to the snow-capped mountains that loomed out of the fog on a warm summer's day along the northeast coast, the former Earth Kingdom was a glorious piece of craftsmanship. It was a marvelous place with marvelous people, and he couldn't but feel…couldn't help but wonder…

_Maybe, when this is all over…maybe I'll just stay…and maybe…maybe Katara…_

He shook the thought away. Somehow, he didn't doubt that, whatever his destiny, she was in it, but still…_too far in the future. A soldier can't think about the future._

The sentries waved him through, though not without some mild chuckling and a few wolf-whistles. He took it in stride, strutting through the camp gates and winking as he passed. The camp was silent, still as the grave. All around him, his boys slept and dreamed and tossed and turned. He walked through the camp with a smile on his face, returning the bow from the sentry outside the officers' quarters as he slipped quietly in the door.

Once inside, he took off his boots, and crept on his socks up the stairs and down the hall to his room. He heard not a sound, not so much as a whisper. _Strange_, he thought, as he came to his door and began to quietly turn the handle, _normally, Tsurukawa would be snoring up a storm right now…_

That was the last coherent thought he had. Before he could even turn the door handle halfway, it was ripped from his fingers. The door swung violently open so suddenly that he found himself staggering inside. He righted himself, just in time to be assaulted by the cheers.

There, in his room, stood Toru, Yukawa, Tsurukawa, and Ryu, who was just slipping back from behind the door. They were applauding with wild abandon, cheering like lion-vultures, whooping and hollering and taking turns slapping Zuko on the back. They had even put up a banner across one of the walls, upon which, scrawled in Tsurukawa's signature erratic script, were the words, _In Honor of the Day Tokugawa Zuko had Fun!_

Zuko didn't know what else to do, so he just started laughing. He laughed and he laughed, returning the hugs and back slaps and enduring the jibes and jokes with good nature and a sense of humor he didn't even know he had. He wasn't even surprised when the Captain suddenly appeared, clapping Zuko on the back and saying, "Well, son, how did having fun for a change feel?"

Zuko chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Pretty good, if I don't say so myself. It was a nice change of pace."

The Captain laughed. "I can imagine! And might I say, that was a very beautiful young lady you danced with last night."

"I don't think dancing was the _half _of it!" Tsurukawa pointed out.

"Hell," Toru added, "I don't think the dancing was a _tenth_ of it!"

"Hush you two," the Captain said, glowering even as his eyes sparkled, "young Lieutenant Tokugawa is not only an officer, but a gentleman, and would never take advantage of a young maiden."

"I dunno," Ryu said, "it seemed to me like the young maiden was taking advantage of _him!_"

"Well," Zuko replied, "as an officer and a gentleman, who am I to refuse such a fine young lady?"

The Captain roared with laughter. "That's the spirit! It's about time you loosened up! Oh, and before I forget," he pressed a piece of parchment into Zuko's hand, "that's for your lady friend."

Zuko examined the paper, eyes growing wide. _What…he didn't…gods, I love this unit. _"Is this…sir…I mean…I can't ask you for this…"

The Captain crossed his arms. "Now, Lieutenant, you're not the first officer to have a girlfriend slipping in and out to visit him, and you won't be the last. Take the pass, and give her my regards. Now, gentlemen," he finished, turning to address the entire assembly, "I believe reveille is in a little over an hour, and young Tokugawa here needs at least a _little_ beauty rest. So, everybody out!"

Having had their fun, they filed out without complaint. Toru was last, and he took a moment to envelop Zuko in a bear hug. It was all very manly, complete with back slaps that rattled the bones. They laughed and ruffled each other's hair, then Zuko was alone and he was collapsing into bed. He was asleep within seconds, a smile on his face, drifting through the best dreams he'd ever had in his life.

* * *

Life is never complete without a few idiot friends being idiots. That's true whether you're old or young, male or female, white or black or brown or green. It's just a fact of life, and, sometimes, it's best to just roll with it.

Also, a moment to doff our caps to Watanabe Toru, who's so deep in the Friend Zone that the person who put him there doesn't even know they did it. *silence*

Moving on...

In the next chapter, a senior servant does her best to get her job done, and fulfills a very special, very important request. Stay tuned!


	58. THE SERVANT

THE SERVANT

HUHAI CHANGYENG HAD ALREADY HAD QUITE THE BUSY MORNING. First, there was the fact that she had to get up unbelievably early to get the junior servants started on clearing up the mess from the night before. Then, she had to help the Lord and Lady get ready for a quick early trip into town. After that, she had to help a couple of the guards eject a pair of drunken, half-dressed guests who were found passed out in a compromising position in one of the broom closets. And _then_, as if all _that_ wasn't enough, while she on her rounds, she stumbled across two of the Lord and Lady's guests, the young man and the teenage girl, who, if she remembered correctly, had the outrageously exotic names of _Sokka _and _Korra_.

It only took one look to see that the young man was very drunk. He had an arm around the girl, who seemed a bit red-faced herself, and they were babbling back and forth in that barbaric language of theirs. When they spotted her, they actually _cheered_, and then proceeded to start babbling at _her_. As the senior-most female servant, Huhai had _much_ better things to do, but, at the end of the day, they were honored guests of her Lord and Lady, and they were also obviously lost. So she sighed and set her shoulders and guided them back to their rooms.

She was just heading back to work, having helped the young girl toss the young man into bed before seeing the young girl into her own room, when one of the doors opened. She found herself looking up (_are all these barbarians so tall?_) at the other of the Lord and Lady's honored Water Tribe guests. Huhai had to wrack her brain for moment, before finally coming up with a name. She bowed politely and said, in Guangzhou, "Good morning, Lady Katara. How are we today?"

It didn't take a genius to see that the Lady Katara was quite alright, and to figure out why. The girl's hair was a mess, and her face was practically _glowing_; if she had started purring, Huhai would not have been the least bit surprised. She wasn't even dressed, but, rather, was leaning up against the doorjamb, a sheet wrapped tightly around her body. And as for the state of the girl's bed, which Huhai could see through the open door…well…_the less said, the better._

"Oh, I am…like…just _fine_. _Marvelous_, really," she said, all but smacking her lips in pleasure. It was very hard for Huhai to keep a straight face. Only the orders of her Lord and Lady to treat these guests with all the courtesy that would be due to a king kept her disapproval from showing. "I just had…oh…the _best_ night, you know? But enough about me. How're you? Changyeng, right?"

Huhai blinked, feeling scandalized. She was the head servant of one of the most powerful lords in all the land, a family she had served all her life, and she was not _about _to get on a first name basis with a _guest_, _especially _not an _honored guest_. It was bad enough that the younger servants seemed to be willing to indulge in such familiarities with these strange people from far away, but no, not _her_.

Still…_the Lord and Lady said… _She dipped her head and said, "That is correct, my lady. And I am doing just fine this morning." _No thanks to your idiot brother and your little sister. _"Is there anything I can get for you this morning?"

The girl broke into a wide grin, raising an outstretched finger. "As a matter of fact," she said, "you guys wouldn't happen to have any…um…_moon tea_ in this place, would you?"

_Ah. _"As it so happens, we do. Fresh and of the highest quality. Would you like me to send up a cup for you?"

The girl pondered this for a moment, then smiled. "Actually, a pot might be better. And, from now on, if it's possible, I'll have a cup in the morning and a cup in the evening."

Huhai bowed. "As you wish, my lady."

The girl laughed. "Oh, you don't have to call me _that_. I mean it. Call me Katara!"

_That_ was just one familiarity too far. "As you please, my lady. Your tea will be brought to you shortly." She bowed once more. "Was there anything else?"

For a moment, Huhai wondered if the girl would have a negative reaction, maybe even complain to the Lord and Lady about her impertinence. That distressed Huhai a bit, but not overly so. After all, the Lord and Lady would understand.

But, to her surprise, rather than react with anger, as most nobles would do, the girl just shook her head and clucked her tongue and smiled. "Man, I will _never_ get used to all these courtesies." She gave a little bow and the smile remained. "You keep doing what you do, ma'am. And thank you, thank you very much for the tea."

They exchanged final bows, and then the girl closed the door and Huhai departed. She was just issuing the orders for the tea to be made and taken directly to the girl when she paused and decided, well, _maybe they're not so bad after all…_

Then one of the stableboys ran in and told her that they'd found two more drunken guests passed out in the stables, and she was off once again.

* * *

Fun Fact: _Huhai _is the _other _part of the pseudonym of the guy who probably wrote _Romance of the Three Kingdoms _that I mentioned in the chapter with the Bookie.

Other Fun Fact: My wife had a direct contribution to this chapter. Actually, she has direct contributions to, like, _all the chapters_, because none of this would be happening if she wasn't encouraging me along and listening to me as I sketched out story ideas and shit to her. So, if you ever want a good spoiler, buy her a drink, and she just might feed you enough details to drive you crazy.

_Anyhoo, _back to her contribution: Originally, Katara asked for _black root tea_. This was going to be a nice little shout-out to _The Sparrowkeet Series, _by the immensely talented Audreyii-fic. Then, my wife pointed out that _moon tea, _which, apparently, was an actual thing, made more sense, what with waterbenders and the moon and shit. Plus, she thought it sounded better. Once I thought about it for a few seconds, I realized she was completely right. So, there you go. A little peek into my creative process, a shout-out to my wife, and a reminder to you guys that you should thank her every day you're enjoying this story, and the stories to follow.

This note is running the risk of being longer than the chapter, but whatever, I forgot to put this in the last note: About the days...I actually did a good day's worth of research on the various calendar systems of the societies the four nations are based on. Then, when I realized that that was way too complicated and would require way too much explanation, either in the text or in some massive note, I decided to just use our names for days, and eventually, probably months. So..._yeah. _I mean, I even spent time on trying to puzzle out how the Water Tribes would totally use a lunar calendar, but like I said, it got too complicated. Sorry if that bothers anyone. *sad face*

ENOUGH OF THAT. In the next chapter, Toph Bei Fong kicks ass and takes names. Stay tuned!


	59. TOPH III

TOPH

SHE NEVER REMEMBERED ANYTHING LEADING UP TO A FIGHT. She didn't know why, but she wondered about it sometimes. Maybe it was because it was all a bunch of pomp and pageantry, and, since she couldn't see it, her mind just…_blanked it out. _She knew what happened; she'd been to enough games, and heard it described enough times by enough people. She knew about the Air Nomad announcer, doing his little trick with his voice, revving up the crowd and getting everybody worked up. She knew about the earthbending troupe that would do a little show in between fights while the stadium workers cleaned up the field. She knew about the priests and the benedictions and the touching of fists and…and…

_Just so much fucking __**stuff.**_ All of it, pointless, useless. Why bother? Why not just let them fight?

She barely even remembered waking up the morning of. It was all a cloud, a haze to her. She woke, she ate, she stretched, her parents hugged her and kissed her and wished her luck and sent her off to the stadium in a plain carriage that no one would look twice at. The world was a cacophony of noise and smell and a hundred other things too hard to put into words. Her heart thumped madly in her chest and she felt light-headed and dizzy and her palms were sweaty and no one spoke to her and she spoke to no one. The last thing she well and truly remembered was the muted conversations between her driver and the guards who were checking fighters in. She heard a door open and assumed that one of the guards was peeking in on her to make sure she was who her driver said she was, and then someone said, _Alright, head on in_, only she couldn't remember what language it was, then the driver was cracking a whip and…

And…

_And…_

The gong sounded, and she started to move.

His name was Jia Zhongming, but he fought under the name _The Chameleon. _Rumor had it that he used to break legs for the Triads before he got into the tournament circuit. He wasn't particularly good, but he was fast. His patented technique was to wear his opponent out by dancing and dodging around, until they were too tired to resist a few final well-placed, well-timed moves. It rarely worked against seasoned fighters, but he had a reputation for pummeling amateurs and for just in general being a weird, slimy piece of work.

_And a perv, too boot_, she thought, if the rumors were anything to go by. _Not the Boulder at all_. Now _that_ was a fight to look forward to. This one? _Please._

The world fell away. She tuned everything out. The crowd faded down to a dull roar. There was only this, the field, the earth, the soul and fiber and bones and blood of the earth, the dirt, warm and unyielding under her feet, between her toes. There was only her, her heart beating in her chest, her blood flowing in her veins, her bones cracking beneath her skin. She could feel it all, taste it all, smell it all. She saw, like lights flashing in the dark, her opponent's feet dancing across the earth. The earth pointed to him, showed her where he was, where he was going. He planted his feet and yelled and she could see his arms waving in the air. The earth responded, rushed up to meet him. He made his move, and the earth rushed for her, reached out for her.

But the earth loved her. The earth loved her and betrayed him. He wasn't a true earthbender; no, not at all. _Not like her. She _knew the earth, knew it and loved it and understood it as no one ever had before. She felt the earth coming for her, reached out, grabbed it, felt the bones of the earth vibrate, curl, felt his power ebb and flow away. She reached out and touched the soul of the earth, and then the earth was flying back at him and he was dancing away.

She opened her ears just long enough to hear the roar of the crowd, and then closed them again as he came for her once more.

They danced. He ducked and weaved all around her, and she let him. She let him think the earth was his to command, let him think she was scared, that she was cowed. Somewhere, she heard her father's voice, egging her on, and her mother's voice, spewing obscenities, and Katara's voice, gasping, and Korra's voice, cheering, and Sokka's voice, matching her mother obscenity for obscenity.

She heard the earth, heard it rumble and quake and groan. She heard her opponent, desperately looking for an opening. He hurled walls and rocks and boulders at her. Each one she felt, each one she reached out and grabbed by the soul, each one she took away from him and hurled right back.

Time vanished. It disappeared. She didn't know where she was, or how long she had been fighting. It could have been a minute, an hour, or anywhere in between. It didn't matter. _Only the fight mattered._

And then he was coming for her. He was frustrated, angry. He had tried every move he could. Maybe he was beginning to suspect that the earth had abandoned him? _Good_. She smiled, and it was a smile like a wolf that smells its prey. He was getting closer. Everything was moving very slow. He was running. _Come on, you piece of shit. Do what I want you to do. _She wondered if he had guessed, wondered if he had managed to peek behind her solid black mask at the noble's daughter hiding beneath. _Almost. Come on. Try it. _Did he know that she was really blind? Had he made the mistake she wanted him to make? _Come on. Almost there. I know you want to do it. Come on. __**JUMP!**_

He jumped. He flew through the air. Everything was silent. She reached down, down into the earth, grabbed it, turned it, primed it to strike. He was flying over her. _He was right over her. _She could feel the air rush through her hair as he passed her by. _Almost_. She began to turn, to rotate on her heel. All she needed…all she needed…_all she needed…_

_**THERE!**_

A foot, _a toe_, connected with the earth, and she struck. She swung herself around, pulling the earth with her. This was it. _This was everything. _She gathered the earth and hurled it through the air.

He never knew what hit him. His other foot had barely even touched the ground when the earth rose up and slammed into him. He lost his balance, tumbled, staggered, and then she hit him again, and again, and then he was flying, tumbling end-over-end, hurtling through the air, and then…

He was out of the ring.

The fight was over.

She had won.

_Eat it, bitch._

The announcer was raising her hands and her ears were open and the crowd was going wild and the earth…

_The earth was singing…_

She smiled. She smiled, pumped her fists in the air, and screamed.

_**"FUCK YEAH, BITCHES! HOW WAS THAT FOR SOME MOTHERFUCKING EARTHBENDING!"**_

The crowd lost its mind.

* * *

So, yeah, that was pretty goddamn awesome. At least, I think so. I hope you do, too.

Also, in case it wasn't clear, Toph totally fights behind a mask, probably a solid one. I imagine that most people think she can see, that it's all just part of the show. _If only they really knew..._

Enough about that. In the next chapter, Korra freaks out over the fight, and her and Katara have a moment. Stay tuned!


	60. KORRA III

KORRA

SHE LITERALLY COULDN'T BELIEVE HER EYES. What she had just seen…well…_it shouldn't be possible. _Toph hadn't just bent the earth; she had _become the earth. _It was like…she didn't even know what it was like. It was the most amazing, most incredible, most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was sheer poetry in motion, but not just any poetry. No, it was like…_a new kind of poetry. _A poetry that was harsh and brutal but no less beautiful for that. Her heart sang in her chest and she could all but _feel _the earth crying out for joy.

_Wow. Just…__**wow.**_

She turned to Katara, who was by her side. They were in the Bei Fong's private box, which was shaded and screened from curious onlookers. Everyone seemed to be there. There were guards and servants, Katara to her left, Sokka with Lao and Jiayi over by the railing, leaning over and hooting and hollering at their daughter…it was quite a comfortable place, actually. There was all the food one could want, and Sokka was taking full advantage of all the beer. Katara was even getting into the holiday atmosphere, holding a glass of wine in one hand while she used the other to bend little droplets into her mouth, her feet propped up on the railing and her body slumped down low in one of the outrageously comfy chairs, a soft smile on her face. Everyone was having the time of their lives, even before Toph took the field, and _now?_

_ It was just freaking __**awesome!**_

The words tumbled out of Korra's mouth in a flood. _"Oh my gods Katara did you see that finishing move it was like BAM and POW and it was almost like she knew where he was going to go and what he was going to do before he even did it or knew it and it was just so fucking awesome and OH MY GODS I just don't even know what to think I mean __**did you see that that was AWESOME?!**_"

Katara laughed and ruffled Korra's hair. "Yes, my dear, I saw. Also, _language._"

Korra's eyes went wide. "Oh…sorry…"

Katara giggled and rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it, my dear; you've probably just been spending too much time with my brother. Isn't that right, Sokka?"

Sokka didn't even bother to look over. He was leaning over the railing right beside Lao, slamming his beer mug on the wood and cheering up a storm, the two men carrying on an in-depth conversation in two entirely different languages. _How does he do that? _Korra wondered. Being able to just naturally _connect_ with people had always been a skill of Sokka's. It was just…_something he did_, language barrier be damned. _Just take that Suki girl, for example…_

"What was that, sis?" he called over his shoulder, eyes fixed on the field where Toph was doing a victory lap while the Chameleon was carried off the field.

"I said, _Stop encouraging our young charge to immoral behavior!"_

"What," he replied, still not looking their way, "like hooking up with Fire Nation officers after a hard night's partying?"

"Excuse me," Katara replied, bending out a droplet of wine and shooting it into her brother's head, "that's my boyfriend you're talking about."

Sokka didn't even let the wine attack faze him. "Yeah, whatever. The next fight's about to start, so stop bothering me." He then launched into an animated conversation of hand signals and grotesque facial expressions with Lao, about, it seemed to Korra, who was the favorite for the next fight, and who Lao thought would win.

After taking a moment to be amused, Korra turned back to Katara. "So, wait…Zuko's your _boyfriend _now?"

Katara made a new drop of wine do somersaults in the air, before finally plopping it into her waiting mouth. "Well, for as long as we're in the same place at the same time. It's basically a matter of, we like each other a lot, and when will we ever see each other again? Who knows? So we're going to do our best to enjoy it."

Korra giggled. "I have to say, I loved how you made him blush when he saw us on our way into the stadium."

Katara heaved a happy, contented sigh. "Yeah, that was fun…" Her smile turned into a thoughtful frown. "You sure you don't mind?"

Korra rolled that around in her head for a moment. The thing was…_she didn't mind_. She couldn't really explain it. Maybe it was just the atmosphere, or the way everyone seemed calm and relaxed, the way they were all enjoying themselves, the way that the North finally seemed in the past, and steadily receding further…

_Or maybe she had finally grown up a bit…_

"You know…I don't. I really don't. He seemed like an okay guy, and it's like you keep saying: We're at war with the Fire Lords, not the people. In fact," she continued, coming to a decision that would surprise no one more than herself, "I think I'd like to meet him. Like, _really meet him_. Last time, I was too mad over being wrong about Jet to be nice to him, and I'd like to apologize, find out more about the Fire Nation."

"Well," Katara pointed out, "you'll get the chance to do that on Wednesday."

"True." That morning, Lao and Jiayi had informed them that Wednesday was the day that her firebending teacher was going to be brought to the estate so that they could all meet. Sokka had already preemptively bailed, preferring to leave the delicate negotiations to his sister, which made sense; it wasn't like they'd be talking in any language he could follow. Korra was equal parts excited and nervous. Still…

"Well, even then," she said, picking her thread back up, "I'd really like to just have a chance to talk to Zuko, you know, apologize and stuff. Ask him some questions. Do you think he'll mind?"

Katara scoffed. "Not once I'm through with him, that's for sure."

Korra made a face. _Ew. _She liked seeing Katara happy, but hearing her talk like that was a lot like listening to one's parents flirting with each other. In other words, it was _gross. _"I'm going to try to pretend you didn't say that."

Katara laughed. "Oh, Korra, remember: Just think of me as your older sister."

"Eh, you're more like my mom, to be honest."

A moment of silence fell. Korra turned, and saw Katara staring at her, mouth open, eyes full of something that Korra didn't fully understand. She suddenly felt awkward, exposed, like she'd made some kind of massive misstep. "Uh…Katara…?"

Katara blinked, and her face broke into a smile. "You really feel like that?"

Korra shrugged. "Well…my parents weren't really…well…_you know. _Sokka's pretty much the big brother I never had, but you? You're…you're my Mom." She bit her lip, and began playing with her hair. "Is that…is that alright to say?"

Katara leaned down and pecked her on the forehead. "It's more than alright to say. I don't mind one bit. In fact…open your mouth." Korra did, and next thing she knew, a glob of wine had landed on her tongue. It was quite delicious, and weak enough that it didn't leave her head spinning, like what Sokka had let her take a few sips of the night before. She closed her mouth, swished the wine around in her mouth, savored the taste, swallowed, and threw her arms around Katara.

They held each other tight, for what felt like a long time.

"It's nice to have you back, Korra."

"You, too, Katara."

They broke the embrace, and Katara was just popping another drop of wine into Korra's mouth when Toph exploded into the box with fists upraised and a string of ear-burning obscenities. She was immediately just about tackled by her parents, who covered her with kisses and praised her to skies, all while she waved them off and acted like she didn't care, even as she turned bright red and beamed.

She also, at one point, threw a rather interesting wink at Korra, which left Korra unsure of quite how to feel.

* * *

Is that a hint of Torra? _Nooooooooo. _*shift eyes*

Also, if you're gunning for Torra, and it happens, thank my wife; she's currently shipping them hardcore.

One of you guys (inthehood, I believe) said that Korra was feeling extraneous to the plot. I don't want that at all; we've just got, like, Twenty Lines, No Waiting, going on. Trust me, she'll be a lot more central in the second and third parts of this (like I said, _long haul), _but I don't want her to feel extra at all.

And now I'm worrying about the feelings of a fictional character. _I need help._

Enough of that. Moving on! In the next chapter, Sokka goes to bother Zuko, and they dork out. Stay tuned!


	61. SOKKA III

SOKKA

HE FOUND HIS SISTER STANDING BY THE FRONT DOOR TO THE MANSION. She was bent over a table, scribbling something on a piece of paper, while one of the Fire Nation soldiers stood to her side, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot-to-foot, obviously ready to get a move on. Intrigued, he crept up behind her, putting his finger to his lips when the soldier saw him. The soldier gave him a sly grin and a very subtle nod, and Sokka instantly marked him out as a man who had siblings. He reached her, and then, at the precise right moment, struck with a vicious tickle attack.

Katara leaped a good three feet in the air, squealing like a little girl. In one move, she whirled around, bending some water out of a nearby vase right into Sokka's face. The water was cold and kind of slimy, as vase water tends to be, but he laughed anyways, because the look on her face was worth it. Even the soldier agreed, as he burst into barely controlled giggles, covering up with a fist pressed to his mouth, as if he was coughing.

Katara glared first at the soldier, then at Sokka, who was bent over, he was laughing so hard, even as water dripped from his nose. "Yeah, yeah," she said, rolling her eyes, "laugh it up, asshole. What do you want?"

It took a few moments to calm down, and even then, his shoulders still shook with mirth. He pulled a rag out of his pocket (he had long since learned to always be prepared to get soaked) and began sopping up the water from his face. "What, besides making you squeak like a five-year-old? Honestly, with that, my day is pretty much complete."

"Uh huh. So, you going to come to the meeting with Korra and I then?"

He scoffed. "What, and sit and stare at the ceiling while everyone chatters in a language I don't understand? _Fuck no." _He finished wiping his face, tossed the rag to a passing servant, and held out his hand. "Besides, you promised to give me your pass so I could go bother Zuko."

"Oh, right." She rummaged in the little bag she sometimes carried around with her, then pulled out the pass and handed it over. "You know, you really should leave him alone today. He's going to be pretty busy."

"You went to go visit him yesterday," he pointed out.

She gave a wistful sigh that was the _last _thing he wanted to hear. "True…still, that was different. He wasn't on duty yesterday," that being Tuesday, "while today, he's filling in for his Captain, so he's stuck in the office, doing crap. And besides, I brought much more to the table than just boredom and a desire to be entertained."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Please, stop right there. I _really _don't need to hear anymore." He gestured at the soldier. "Though, he can't be _too _busy, considering he has time to send a runner up here to give you a love note."

Katara crossed her arms, her expression one of being vaguely offended. "_Excuse me_. Zuko would _never _do something like that. Private Sakata here was already coming up on official business, something to do with supplies or some such, so Zuko had him deliver the daily question while he was at it."

Sokka barely suppressed an eye roll. "Ah, right, you guys' little _question game. _Gag me with a _spoon_."

She popped an eyebrow. "Because putting on a skirt to get in a girl's pants is _so _much more dignified."

"Hey," he said, raising a finger, "that was for warrior training purposes. The getting laid was completely ancillary to that."

"Uh huh. Tell it to the hand because the face already heard it." With this, she turned back to the table, finished what she was writing, and handed the paper over to the aforementioned Private Sakata. They had a little conversation in Guangzhou (or so Sokka assumed; whatever it was, he didn't follow), exchanged bows, and then the soldier was off. Returning her attention to her brother, Katara said, "Well, you have your pass. Need any money?"

Sokka gave her a look. "Come on, Katara, I'm not a kid. I can fend for myself."

"I'll believe _that _when you start washing your own socks."

"_Ahem. _I hasten to remind you that _sock washing _is not warrior's work."

"Is that so? Why don't I tell Mom you said that, next we see her?"

"I'd…rather you didn't…if the truth was to be told…"

"Thought so." She popped up and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Have fun, and tell Zuko I said hi."

He flashed his famous lop-sided grin. "What, no kisses or anything to pass on?"

The smile that creased her face was not anything he cared to see on his little sister. "Oh, trust me, I gave him _plenty _of that yesterday."

"_Alright. _On that note, I think I'll head out. Have fun!"

"We will!" she called after him as he slipped out the door and into the sunshine. "We'll get drunk, have a pillow fight in our underwear, and see if we can get the Fire Nation girls to make out!"

"Draw a picture for me!" he called over his shoulder.

The walk there was absurdly pleasant. The sun was out, the birds were singing, little children laughed and squealed and played in the grass, thin wisps of cloud tumbled through the sky…one could almost be forgiven for thinking that there was no such thing as a _war _going on, that boys barely old enough to shave weren't slaughtering each other a couple of hundred miles to the north.

_Almost,_ he thought with a grimace. That train of thought, he quickly realized, would lead nowhere productive, and would only ruin a perfectly good mood. So, why bother? He shrugged the darkness off and left it wallowing in the dirt behind him.

_It'll catch up soon enough, of __**that, **__I can be perfectly certain._

There was a brief hiccup at the entrance to the compound, mostly due to the fact that Sokka and the soldier on guard shared the meaning of not a single word. They grunted at each other for a bit, until the soldier called over another who spoke Guangzhou, to whom Sokka was able to explain, in his broken grammar and hideous accent, that he was the person listed on the pass's brother. Ultimately, the soldiers seemed to decide it wasn't their problem, and the one who had been called over took the pass and escorted Sokka to what he assumed was the officers' quarters.

Along the way, Sokka took the time to admire his erstwhile enemy's arrangements. Say what one would about the Fire Nation – and Sokka could say a lot – they knew how to run an army. Even the dust seemed to be kept carefully controlled and disciplined. Everyone moved about with a sense of purpose, and even the three soldiers Sokka saw at one point leaning against a wall, smoking and obviously shooting the shit, seemed to be doing it in a disciplined sort of way. Sokka actually commented on this to the soldier who was escorting him, to which the soldier replied by shrugging and nodding, which Sokka felt was a step in the right direction.

At the entrance to their destination, his escort exchanged a few words with the sentry, who roughly patted Sokka down before motioning them inside with a jerk of his head. Once in the building, Sokka was led through a room filled with bustling clerks, runners dashing in and out, until the escort stopped at an open door, motioned for Sokka to wait, and stepped through the door. Inside, he snapped to attention, bowed, and spoke in tongues to someone inside. That done, the soldier came back out, handed Sokka his sister's pass back, gave a little bow (which Sokka awkwardly returned), and was off.

From inside the office, a familiar voice called, "Come on in," in Inuktitut. Smiling, Sokka stepped inside, exchanging Water Tribe handshakes with the occupant, before plopping himself down in a chair and propping his feet up on the desk.

Behind the desk, Zuko chuckled as he sat himself down. "Please, make yourself at home."

Sokka laughed. "Don't mind if I do." He pulled out his smoking gear and began to roll a cigarette. "Mind if I smoke?"

Zuko gestured at the over-flowing ashtray set by his elbow. "Please, go right ahead. You won't do any damage that I haven't already done." Once Sokka was finished rolling, Zuko leaned over the desk, snapping a finger from his thumb. "Here, let me give you a light."

"Don't mind if you do." Sokka leaned forward, nodding appreciatively as his cigarette flared to life. Slumping back in his chair, he blew a perfect smoke ring into the air. "You know, that's pretty gods-damn handy. I can see why my sister keeps you around."

Zuko laughed. "Well, I hope that's not the _only _reason." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and tapped the paper he was currently working on. "Mind if I finish this real quick?"

"Go right ahead."

"Thanks." Zuko bent over the paper, scribbling away in that weird script his people had. While he worked, occasionally muttering to himself (Sokka didn't speak a word of Nihongo, but he followed; _absent-minded bitching_ is the same in any language), Sokka cast his eyes over the room. It was pretty cramped, already over-flowing with papers and scrolls stuffed willy-nilly anywhere they could find a home. How a small company could produce so much paper in so short a time, Sokka didn't even _pretend _to comprehend. Instead, he just kind of marveled. He found himself wondering just how much paper the Fire Lord's armies produced, not even in a given year, but in a single _day. _A thousand pounds? Ten-thousand? _A million? _It was mind-boggling to even contemplate.

Finally, Zuko finished. He barked an order, and one of the clerks appeared, snapping to attention and bowing as he came in. Zuko rattled off some orders (or so Sokka assumed; for all he knew, Zuko could've been ordering some ice cream), which the clerk seemed to acknowledge, taking the papers Zuko had just finished, bowing, and leaving. That done, Zuko tossed his pen on the desk, hurled himself back in his chair, and ran his hands down his face, groaning with exhaustion.

"Worn out?" Sokka asked, genuinely concerned.

Zuko shook his head. "Meh. Not really; it's just that paperwork is tiring."

"What are you doing, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I don't, because you'll find it distressingly boring."

Sokka was always eager to learn new things, even boring things (_except languages, because languages were annoying_), which was why he said, "Meh, try me."

Zuko laughed. "Alright, you asked for it." He leaned forward, and began gesturing at various piles of papers and stacks of scrolls on the desk. "Basically, at the end of each day's duty, the platoon commanders – like me, normally – have to file a report. What happened that day, things of interest, stuff like that. We turn it in to the Captain, who then reads them, puts them all together into his own report, summarizing everything that's in the individual reports. This report is then given to the clerks, who make three copies, and filed. At the end of an assignment, these reports, including an _additional _report, summarizing everything in them, are turned in to the battalion commander, who passes them on up to the regimental commander, should he need them."

"Fuck," Sokka said, eyes boggling a bit, "that's…that sounds excruciatingly boring."

"You have _no _idea. But yeah, turns out that one of the Captain's old army buddies from his youth is in town for the games, and so, because I have night duty today and thus am freely available, he decided to leave me in charge and take the day to go watch the games with his old friend."

"Sucks to be you. Why'd he shackle you with this?"

Zuko shrugged. "He says it's because I'm the only one he'd trust with being him for a day, but personally, I think he just wanted a day off. Not that I blame him; he's the boss man at the moment, and the boss man rarely gets a break."

"You know," Sokka said, tapping some ash onto the floor, "my sister's right. You really do need to learn how to take a compliment."

"Oh, kiss my ass."

"You kiss my sister with that mouth?"

"Only every chance I get. And she _loves it._"

"Yeah, well, she never did have much taste."

"You know," Zuko said, slipping a cigarette out of the open pack on the desk and lighting up, "one of these days, I'm going to win one of these verbal exchanges with you."

Sokka chuckled. "Oh? Well, everyone has a dream, I suppose…and besides, hanging out with my sister, one would think you'd be used to losing arguments."

"Maybe," Zuko said with a happy grin, "but she has _much _more enjoyable ways of proving her point."

Sokka groaned. "You two, I _swear_, you're going to be the death of me."

"Hey, I gotta win somehow."

"Yeah, well, bite me."

They smoked in companionable silence for a few moments, just kind of watching the smoke swirl and twist in the air. It was really was a lovely day. The window to the office was open, and a cool breeze kept the air inside fresh and clean. Even the clerks in the outer office seemed relaxed, if their occasional chuckles were anything to go by.

It helped that Sokka liked Zuko. For all that the man was Fire Nation, and involved with his sister, to boot, the guy just had a quality about him that Sokka couldn't help but like. Even their brief acquaintance, eighteen months before, had been enough to let Sokka decide that, if the Fire Nation could produce guys like Zuko and his comrades, it couldn't possibly be the wellspring of pure evil the village elders liked to paint it as in stories late at night over a crackling fire.

Not that that lessened Sokka's desire to bring the Fire Nation down and end the madness. No, not at all. If anything, it made him want to bring that outcome about _more_, not just for those groaning under oppression, but for the good people in the Fire Nation who deserved to live in a better nation.

_And now that Korra's finally come around to thinking like that, who knows where the future might lead? _Sokka couldn't even _begin _to guess, but couldn't help but feel excited at the possibility.

"Hey, Zuko?"

"Hmm?"

"Mind if I ask you a question?"

Zuko rolled his eyes. "You and your sister. You know what her most recent question to me was?" He held up the paper that Sokka had seen his sister writing on before he left.

"Oh, do tell!"

Zuko glanced at the paper. "She asked, _What was your least favorite animal as a child?_"

Sokka giggled. "Hey, that's a pretty good one. What was it?"

"Turtle-ducks, of course."

"Seriously?"

"Fuck yeah. I mean, I got over it, but when I was a little kid, one of them bit the shit out of me, and I was scared of them for a good couple of years."

"That's cool; I was terrified of otter-penguins for, like, _years_, because I broke my leg trying to ride one when I was seven."

"That'll do it."

"Tell me about it. Though, I have to ask…what was your question to her? The one she was answering?"

"Oh, I asked her what her favorite time of year was."

"Oh, that's easy. Spring, because of the flowers."

"Nope."

"For reals?"

"For reals. It's summer, because then she doesn't have to go around decked out in furs all the time, and it's easier to bend without having to wear an extra thirty pounds everywhere you go."

"Huh…I never knew that…makes sense, though. What's yours?"

"Oddly enough, winter. Summers can be pretty miserable back home, but in the winter, it snows, especially up in the mountains. Maybe nothing like what you guys get, but it's still pretty fun to play around in it, especially when you don't get to see it that often. Plus, my father hated snow, so when we were kids, he'd let Azula and I go off on our own to play up in the mountains."

Sokka considered the mental image that presented. He tried to picture Zuko as a little kid, no doubt dressed in the finest clothes, laughing and squealing and pelting his sister with snowballs, but somehow, it just didn't fit. For one thing, he only knew Zuko as a soldier, and for another, well…

_He couldn't quite form an image of the guy without the scar…_

"You know, that kind of leads into what I wanted to ask you."

Zuko made a face. "If it's about the scar, ask your sister. She knows the whole story."

Sokka shrugged. "Trust me, I did. She just glared and told me it was none of my business. Which, she's absolutely right about; it _is _absolutely none of my business."

Zuko's frown turned into a smile with what Sokka found to be nauseating speed. "That girl…every day, I think I can't like her more, and every day, she proves me wrong."

Sokka made a gagging sound in the back of his throat. "Yeah, that's nice." _I swear, between her and him and Korra thinking it's totally adorable, I'm going to lose my teeth to rot from all this fucking __**sugar.**_ "But, no, it wasn't about your scar. It was actually about your family."

Zuko popped an eyebrow, stubbing out his cigarette and pulling himself upright in his chair. "Oh? What about them?"

"Well…what's the deal with them? How did they come to power? Last time we all met, you told me something along the lines of how, in some ways, this war was fated to happen, with the way your family took over the Fire Nation."

Zuko sighed. "Ah. So, you want an explanation of what I meant?"

"If it's cool with you."

Zuko shrugged. "Meh, I don't mind. It's a bit of a history lesson. I'll try to make it not _too _terribly long, but-"

Sokka was already upright in his chair, a gleeful look on his face and a warmth spreading through his heart. "Dude, I fucking _love _history lessons."

Zuko laughed. "Well, in that case, you're in luck." He looked out the window, seemed to do some mental calculations in his head, and stood. "As a matter of fact, I have to do my rounds around the camp. How about you walk with me, and I'll tell you what you want to know?"

Sokka bounded out of his seat. "Sounds good to me!"

Zuko shook his head, chuckling as he stuffed his cigarettes in his pocket and led Sokka out the door. "I never thought I'd meet someone who was as big a dork as me."

Sokka struck a proud pose. "You were wrong, sir, dead wrong."

"Ha!"

* * *

In my mind, that one week back in the day was pretty packed, and, somehow, sensing that his sister was developing a big crush on the guy, Sokka made sure to dork out with him a few times. At least, that's my headcanon. One of you guys should write one of those exchanges! There, I gave you a prompt! Run with it!

For those playing the home game, _random tickle attacks _are kind of my specialty. Drives my wife up a wall.

That's actually it for today. The next few chapters kind of flow together, since they're all pretty much happening at the same time, and besides, I can't give you guys _everything _in one day, you know? Gotta keep you on the hook _somehow. _

Moving on...in the next chapter, our favorite Fire Nation trio arrive at the mansion, and Mai sees the last person she wants to see, and has a completely understandable reaction. No worries, she's not going to be a bitch or anything; even in Canon, that's not Mai's style. Stay tuned!


	62. MAI III

MAI

THE INVITATION TO LUNCH FROM THE LADY BEI FONG TO THE LADY ARINORI WAS VERY CLEAR: THE LADY ARINORI (AND GUESTS) SHOULD ARRIVE AT AROUND NOON. Since the Lady Arinori Mai was of the highest nobility, their palanquin arrived a good hour after the set time, this being what is known in such circles as _fashionably late_. To arrive any earlier would have been considered the _height _of rudeness, and, thus, cause for comment. And why should anyone have any reason to comment? It was just a lunch between well-born ladies, and a chance for the Lady Bei Fong to show just how _committed _to the Occupation she was, seeing as the Lady Arinori's father was, as all knew, a _very _big wheel back in the Fire Nation.

Inside the palanquin, Mai took one last moment to look around at her friends. Everyone was dressed with impeccable taste, Mai like the high-born lady she was, Ty Lee like the high-born lady's low-born friend, the kind of ornament that every noble liked to keep around for entertainment's sake. And, of course, there was Shizuka, the Lady Arinori's personal body servant, dressed like the impertinent servant that she was.

"Alright," Mai said, smoothing out her skirts, "everyone know their lines?"

Azula rolled her eyes. "We've only been practicing since dawn."

Mai laughed. "Well, we wouldn't have had to practice that early if _someone _here hadn't decided that I should wear my hair differently today."

Both girls turned angry – if indulgently so – glares at Ty Lee, who was busy mumbling her lines to herself. Without missing a beat in her recitation, Ty Lee giggled and said, "What can I say? Your new hairdo came to me in a dream, and I just _had _to see it done before I forgot about it."

"Joy to me," Mai muttered.

"In Ty's defense," Azula said, shifting so she could be first out the door to help _her lady _out and to the ground, "it _does_ look fantastic. It was time to ditch those hairbuns."

"Those _hairbuns_, I'll have you know," Mai said with a wisp of a smile on her face, "are the _height _of fashion back in Miyako."

"Yeah," Azula replied, "about a decade ago. Ty was right, it was time for a change. Though," and this she said with a growl in the back of her throat, "maybe _at the crack of gods-damn dawn _wasn't the time to enact said change."

"Oh, don't be jealous," Ty Lee cooed, reaching up and toying with the pink ribbons in her hair, "I'll be going to work on _your _hair tomorrow. I have so many ideas! I mean, we got rid of Mai's buns; now it's time to do something about those bangs of yours."

Azula shot Ty Lee an exasperated _look_, one of her patented methods, the kind that could reduce the bravest boy into a puddle of fear. Ty Lee, of course, didn't notice, and Mai didn't help by bursting into a fit of giggles. Azula rolled her eyes. "You two. Why am I friends with you again?"

"Because I teach you all kinds of cool knife tricks?" Mai offered.

"Well…_yeah_, but…" Azula huffed and flipped Mai the bird. "Bite me. Now, time to roll. Remember, Ty: _Nihongo only._"

"Way ahead of you, my dear," Ty Lee replied, effortlessly switching from their usual Kejia into the language in question.

By the time they had been received into the mansion, the girls were in full throttle. Mai led the way, arm-in-arm with Ty Lee, while Azula – now _Shizuka _– trailed behind, dragging her feet and looking sullen, as any servant would when getting lectured by their lady.

"Now, I understand, Shizuka, don't think that I don't," Mai was saying, in the haughty, imperious, disinterested tones of the perfect noble, "you were used to a certain amount of…_latitude_, with my dear, dear friend, the _Princess_ _Azula_," here, she dropped the name as only a noble could, with a slight pop in the voice to make sure everyone heard, "and I know, out of love for her, I've allowed you far more freedom than is my custom."

"I know, my lady," Azula/Shizuka muttered, shoulders slumped, eyes locked on the floor.

"But the thing is, this is _exactly _why my close friend, the Princess, your former mistress, asked me to take you with me on my trip abroad." By this point, the trio had left the main atrium and were heading towards the veranda, where the Lady Jiayi would entertain them for food and drinks. They were led by a young female servant, who, when she could, kept slipping looks at sympathy towards whom she thought of as her compatriot, while Azula/Shizuka responded by occasionally – and very slyly – rolling her eyes at the back of Mai's head. "We were supposed to be getting you _away _from involvement with boys beneath your station, not finding _new _boys for you to get involved with. Do you follow me?"

"I do, my lady," came the reply, dripping with equal parts deference and annoyance. This brought a muffled giggle from the servant who was leading them, which Mai saw, and had to struggle very hard not to burst out laughing at.

"Aw," Ty Lee said, leaning her head on Mai's shoulder and pouting, "come on, Mai, it's not _that _bad. He's a nice boy, nothing to get worked up about. Besides," she continued, her voice rising to a falsetto squeak, "I think it's rather adorable!"

Mai rolled her eyes in theatrics worthy of the greatest Noh actress. "Of _course _you would, Ty, but that's neither here nor there, and you know it."

"Oh, I don't know, Mai…it doesn't seem that big of a deal to me."

"Well, of _course_ it wouldn't," Mai said, her voice dripping with condescension, which she noticed made their escort all but turn green and gag. "_You're _just a commoner, for all of your high education. You just don't _understand _these kinds of things. A lady of my station much be _above reproach_, just as her close servants must be, as well."

Ty Lee sighed. "But, it's just some young love…"

"_Whatever it may be_," Mai lectured, in a tone that made clear that such things as _young love _were _quite _beyond her comprehension or interest, _thank you very much, _"this ends now. Do you understand me, Shizuka?"

Azula/Shizuka rolled her eyes and huffed, but in an acceptable manner. "Yes, my lady."

"I don't want to hear any more about it, and I _definitely _don't want to see that young man hanging around like some lovesick puppy ever again. Are we clear?"

Another huff. "_Yes_, my lady."

"Excellent. Now, like I said, that's the end of it. Stop pouting, and put on a smile."

"Right away, my lady."

By this point, they had reached the doors that would open out onto the veranda. Their guide stopped, knocked, and was bidden to enter. She gave a final bow, shot a last look of sympathy at Azula/Shizuka (which was wholeheartedly returned, in a performance that made Mai want to die laughing), the doors were opened, and they entered.

Mai would wonder, ever afterwards, if she really didn't see her sitting there. She certainly saw everyone else. She saw the Lady Jiayi rising, a smile on her face, launching into the beginnings of a bow. She saw Lobsang ending the conversation he was in with her, setting his pipe aside as he rose, his perennial serene, blissful smile on his face. She saw the food and the pots of tea and the young teenage girl with dark skin and hair in a sloppy ponytail. She saw the tree off in the distance, standing alone on a low, rounded hill. She saw the tree swaying, the leaves rustling in the wind, the grass shimmering in the sun, flowing like the waves of the sea.

She saw the hand at the girl's elbow (_Korra, her name is __**Korra**__, she's the Avatar and she's had a rough time but look at that smile I used to smile like that didn't I or did I ever was I ever a young girl with hopes and dreams and the world open before me and…_). The hand was squeezing, gentle, pulling the girl (_Korra, Korra, __**Korra**_) to her feet. The hand drifted away, made a sign. The girl's eyes went wide and one side of her mouth quirked up in a kind of a smile and she began to bow and the hand returned to the front of a waist and it clasped another hand and the waist was bending and…

_And…_

_ Surely I saw her before that? Surely I'm not that stupid and petty? I'm twenty-gods-damn years old. I'm a traitor and a rebel and I can toss a piece of straw in the air and slice it into three pieces of equal length with two knives drawn and thrown after I toss the straw and once I killed a man, he was an informer slipped into my entourage, he and his comrade were going to blackmail me, so without even blinking I slit his throat while Ty Lee leaped across the table and crushed the other man's larynx and Azula burned their bodies and we scattered the ashes and afterwards we felt bad, but we also had to laugh, what did they think was going to happen, I'm strong and I'm mature and I'm an adult and I don't stoop to just pretending someone doesn't exist because the boy I like likes her instead of liking me and…and…_

But there she was. She was tall and beautiful with dark brown hair like a waterfall and big blue eyes and a soft smile and Mai could tell just by looking at her that she would like her if she just gave her a chance.

And maybe she would, but not now. Right now, in that moment, the Lady Arinori Mai blinked once, twice, turned on her heel, and left the room, the door slamming shut behind her as she stood in the hall, hands shaking, the servants flanking the doorway staring in abject confusion.

The thought of the looks on everyone's faces only made her feel worse.

* * *

Was that childish of Mai? Probably, but hey, she's only human. Don't worry; Katara's going to work her magic, which isn't hard with this version of Mai.

So, I have an announcement to make: I will probably finish writing the first book of _Romance of the Four Nations _sometime tomorrow, which means you will all get to read it over the course of next week. I'd give you more, faster, but I'm determined that these chapters are as clean and polished and possible. I'm...like...obscenely proud of what I've done here, and I'm really excited for Books 2 and 3, and I hope you are, too.

It's going to be, like, fucking _epic, _guys. No joke.

But, moving on! In the next chapter, Zuko gives Sokka a little history. It's actually quite important. I do my best to make it interesting. Stay tuned!


	63. ZUKO XVI

ZUKO

"SO," HE ASKED, AS THEY WALKED OUT INTO THE SUNSHINE, "YOU REALLY DON'T KNOW ANY OF THIS?"

Sokka shrugged, pausing a moment to take a deep whiff of the outside air. "Well, I think it's a matter of _knowing _without really…well…_knowing_, if that makes any sense." He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked a little embarrassed. "Education back home isn't what anyone would call _formal_, or even necessarily _comprehensive_, even for a chief's son."

Zuko nodded, taking this in. He felt a prick, somewhere at the back of his mind, that old feeling of _curiosity_, that tingle one feels when one is about to _learn something_. "Really? What is education like?"

"Well, in essence, I'm not sure one should call it _education_. Most of what you learn, you learn from your parents and from the elders. Gran-Gran…er, I mean…my _grandmother_-"

Zuko laughed. "I know who _Gran-Gran _is, Sokka."

"Oh! Right! You would. Gods, you guys really cover _everything _when you talk, don't you?"

_Oh, if you only knew. _"We do. That's why I know you look good in a skirt."

Sokka groaned. "I'm going to fucking kill her, I fucking _swear_. But, _anyways_, yeah, that's about how it works. You learn the basics you need to know for survival, and then you learn by doing. As the chief's son, I got lessons in the basics of government and politics, but nothing like you got, I'm sure. And my mother and Gran-Gran made sure Katara and I could read and write, but even that was informal, and as for learning in-depth about the outside world? That wasn't really covered at all. I mean, how much did we need to learn, right? How was it for you?"

Zuko sighed. They were coming up on the first sentry post, at the main entrance into the camp. With a sliver of his mind, he carried on a conversation with the boys posted there, while Sokka whistled tunelessly and aimlessly rubbed his toes into the dirt.

_How was it for me? _Zuko really didn't have the faintest idea of how to answer that. How to explain a royal education? The endless drills in philosophy, politics, languages? How to communicate that, by five, he was fluent in no less than five languages, by ten, in twelve? For his grandfather's birthday, when Zuko was seven and Azula five, they stood before the wizened old man, of whom both of them were frightened senseless (Zuko was terrified of his eyes, and Azula was disturbed by the man's gnarled fingers), and traded off reciting, in perfect classic Putonghua, one of the _Four Earth Kingdom Classics_, from memory, for over an hour, a performance that had been beaten into them with a switch. By the time he went to the Academy, Zuko was already proficient in all three dominant firebending schools (though nowhere _near _as good as his sister), he could read and write in every major language of the world, and he was able to practice _kendo _blindfolded.

All of this he learned, over the course of agonizing, endless hours of lessons, writing until he couldn't feel his fingers anymore, bent over a desk until his back felt like it was being sliced open, every mistake punished with the sudden strike of a tutor's bamboo switch and the back of his father's hand.

How could he explain any of that? With a start, he realized he couldn't, not in any kind of summary, so he didn't bother. Instead, as they walked away from the first sentry post and headed for the next, he shrugged and said, "It...let's just say that it wasn't particularly pleasant. But, I believe you had a question, and I had a history lesson to give."

He could feel the piercing look, the searching gaze. Sokka, he realized then, was a lot smarter than he tended to act, but also a good guy, as evidenced by the fact that he let the thread go and said, "Well, if you insist…"

Zuko chuckled. "Right." _Gods, if only I'd just run away to the South years ago, I might be a happier man. But would I still be Zuko? _That was a question for the ages, so he decided to ignore it.

"Anyways," he began, "what you have to understand about the Fire Nation is that we're a passionate people. It may seem like we're united and just love beating up on the rest of the world, but actually, for most of our history, we spent most of our time beating up on each other."

Sokka snapped his fingers through the air. "I heard about that part! The…um…_Sengoku Jidai…?_"

Zuko chuckled, and chose not to comment on how Sokka had butchered the pronunciation. "Yeah, well, that was just the most recent and most vicious round of civil wars. Before that, Fire Nation history was an endless cycle of periods of relative order – and I'm using that term _very _loosely – punctuated by times of chaos and violence. We were always either at each other's throats, or desperately trying to figure out some way of not being at each other's throats."

"Right. So what happened?"

"To tell you this story, I have to back up a moment. After a time, the nation became very regimented and warlike, as constant strife tends to do. You had the _daimyo_, warlords, basically, of varying degrees of power, and serving them were the _samurai_, men whose entire lives revolved around war and preparing for war."

"I take it that it was all _much _more complicated than that."

For a moment, Zuko wasn't a twenty-two-year-old soldier with half a face. No, he was a little boy again, cloistered in a darkened room, late at night. He and his sister were crouched over a tiny table in a tiny alcove, rubbing their eyes, a low candle burning, desperate to stave off the darkness. Spread before them were massive, exhaustive, obsessively detailed lists of every noble clan in the Fire Nation, going back to their supposed foundations, with detailed histories of who fought whom, for whom, why, who betrayed whom, and so on, and so on, _and so on…_

_ We drilled each other until dawn, because we figured our father wouldn't ever think to look for us there…_

"Oh, quite," he said, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. "Trust me, though, now is neither the time nor the place to get into _ninja _and peasant rebellions and the various orders of warrior monks and the occasional intervention of Avatars and-"

Sokka held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, you win. Maybe some other time. You were saying?"

Zuko smiled, smoke curling from his nose. "_Right_. So, what the nobles were fighting over was the right to be _Shogun._"

"Not Fire Lord?"

"Nope. _Fire Lord _was merely a religious, ceremonial, powerless title. Officially, the Fire Lord was the highest priest in the land, descended from Agni himself, and supreme ruler over the entire country. In reality…"

"It was a meaningless honor."

"Precisely. The real title to shoot for was, as I said, _Shogun_, which basically meant _most powerful warlord._"

"The biggest bully on the block."

"Pretty much. The _Shogun _was the one who commanded all the _force _needed to rule, but, unfortunately, none of the real moral authority. It merely meant, _Right now, I'm the top dog of this dogpile, so bow down._"

"Not a position for long-term political stability."

"Exactly. So, one day, the most recent _Shogun_, he dies, and he leaves in his place his sickly, barely ten-year-old son. So, naturally, that Shogun's right-hand man murders the kid, and his former boss's entire family, and plunges the country back into civil war."

"The _Sengoku Jidai._"

"_The Age of the Country at War._ It was the worst civil war _ever_. It was awful. For a hundred-and-fifty-years, we tore ourselves to shreds, and no one could ever rise high enough to bring it to an end. It seemed it was all over. Our passion, our drive, our will to reach out and take what we want, and do whatever necessary to get it, was finally going to bring the Fire Nation to ruin."

"Enter your family."

"Specifically, a man known as Tokugawa Meiji. When the wars began, we were merely a minor clan, the ones deprecated enough to be trusted with ruling Miyako, the capital, where the Fire Lords lived and pretended to rule. Well, my ancestor, he realizes that the key is to somehow combine the moral authority of the Fire Lord with the military and civil authority of the Shogun. So, reasoning that the disorders proved that the Fire Lords had lost the Mandate of Agni, Meiji stormed the Palace, murdered the current Fire Lord and his entire family, right down to distant fifth cousins, and sat himself on the Scarlet Throne. Then, through a combination of political acumen, diplomacy, clever maneuvering, and sheer force of arms, he united the country under an absolute monarchy for the first time since the Spirit Days."

"But what has this got to do with the War?"

"This is where it gets complicated."

Sokka made a face. "It wasn't already?"

"Oddly enough, no. Now, bear with me here: You see, Meiji, and his successors, didn't unite the country by destroying that spirit of passion, aggression, and fire. Not at all: _They harnessed it_. They created a professional military, ennobling all the _samurai _and making them officers in it. They turned the _daimyo _into generals and administrators. They put in place compulsory education, supported technological advancement, and filled the schools and the people's minds with legends and stories about how the Fire Nation was great, was superior, had a _great destiny_, that only united under our fathers the Fire Lords could we ever reach it."

"And eventually," Sokka said, face slack with revelation, "all that energy had to go somewhere. Hold it in, and everything will fall apart again. Thus, it has to go somewhere, and why not direct it outwards."

"And who knows: Maybe, after a time, my family began to believe their own propaganda. Maybe my great-grandfather bought into it all, hook, line, and sinker, until, drunk on dreams of _The Great Destiny_, he unleashed what had become the most modern, industrialized, united nation and military in history upon the world."

"Fast forward a hundred years later," Sokka finished, face grim, arms stretching out to encompass, not just the camp, but the world beyond, "and here we are."

Zuko could only nod. "I'm afraid so."

They stopped. It had not been a constant conversation; it had had ebbs and flows, stops and starts, as Zuko went about his duties. Somehow, they had come all the way around to where they had started. They stood before the officer's building, looking out upon the camp. The building was on a low hill, higher than its surroundings. If Zuko turned in one direction, he would see Gaoling, sprawling off into the hills and fields beyond. If he turned another way, he would see the Bei Fong estate, stretching off almost as far as the eye could see. And if he looked to the north and the east…

_If he looked there, he could almost see a world at war, bathed in blood, rebels fighting and dying, and the young red-clad boys fighting and dying with them._

He sighed. _Is that really it? Is that how we got here? Is there no way to get past it?_

_ Is there no way to finally stand up, to look the forces of tyranny in the face, and say, once and for all time, __**No more?**_

_Was that all it would really take?_

He shook his head. He didn't know. All he knew was that he was one man, who really liked a particular young woman, and that, more than anything in the world, he never wanted to write a letter to someone's mother, ever again.

_But how?_

He reached out, threw an arm around Sokka's shoulders. He bit down on the vague surge of discomfort, recognizing such feelings as being…well…_dumb._

"How about we go back to the office and have a nice, stiff drink?"

Sokka laughed, tossing the cigarette he had smoked at some point down to the dirt and stubbing it out with his toe. "You know what?" he said, throwing his own arm around Zuko's shoulders and showing not the least bit discomfort at the act. "That sounds just _fabulous_. And, at some point, don't let me forget, I'll need a knife and a whetstone."

Zuko blinked, completely lost. _Huh? _"The fuck would you need that for?"

Sokka threw him a lob-sided grin. "So I can sharpen it while glaring and making vague threats about the fate of your manhood should you break my sister's heart, of course."

Zuko couldn't help but scoff. "You know, I'm never going to be as frightened of you as I am of her."

"Maybe not," Sokka said, waving the point aside, "but a man must have his fantasies."

"Heh…alright, I'll see what I can do."

"You're a pal, Zuko. Now, I believe there was a drink on offer…"

"Right this way."

* * *

Like I said in the last author's note, this is all actually very important. File it away, and keep it in the back of your mind. It's going to matter, and the part that matters most are two words in particular:

_**No more.**_

At the risk of repeating myself, keep those words in mind.

For those playing the home game, _Meiji _was the name of the Japanese emperor who helped bring about the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate and oversaw the founding of the modern Japanese state. Unfortunately, the Japanese ended up running into the same problem the Fire Nation did; they didn't so much as _fix _the problems, as attempted to harness them. And eventually, all that energy and aggression has to go somewhere. Sure, you could try to mold and bend it into something else, but that's hard, isn't it? And since where nations good at making hard decisions?

*glares at own country*

But, moving on! In the next chapter, Azula meets and Korra, and Katara puts things together and makes a snap decision. Stay tuned!


	64. KATARA XIV

KATARA

FOR A LONG, EXCRUCIATING MOMENT, NO ONE QUITE KNEW WHAT TO DO. They all just stood there, staring open-mouthed at the door. For her part, Katara felt completely dumbstruck. _The fuck just happened? _Those four words repeated endlessly in her skull, over and over and over again. _Seriously…__**what?! **_It was, without a doubt, one of the strangest, most random things that had happened to her…and after the past two years, that was saying a lot.

The imperious-looking Fire Nation girl reacted first. She shook her head, a lot like an ostrich-horse shrugging off a particularly irksome fly, and, a broad smile plastered on her face, bowed her head and said, in pitch-perfect Guangzhou (_that having been the language pre-agreed on for the meeting_), "Well then…if you all will excuse us for just a moment…" She turned then to her friend, the girl with the pink ribbons in her hair, and rattled off a stream of what sounded remarkably like orders in Nihongo. The girl nodded, mouth still hanging open, before turning to the assembly and saying, in a bright and cheerful voice, "Right…I'll be right back. And might I say," this, she addressed to Korra, who stood with eyes wide and a slack look on her face, "you, my dear, have just…_fabulous hair._ Not as incredible as yours, of course," this, she addressed to Katara, "but still nice. Actually," she turned her full attention on Katara, "do you think I could, like, play with your hair sometime? Like, brush it out or something? I bet it brushes just _wonderfully._"

Katara did not follow in the least. It was like…she was _hearing the words_, but they weren't quite making it to her brain. All she could do was awkwardly run a hand through said hair and say, brows furrowed in confusion, "Um…_yeah_…uh…_okay?_ I mean, if you really want to…"

The girl smiled as if she had just gotten a new puppy. "_That's wonderful! _How about tonight, or this very afternoon, right after the meeting? And don't think I've forgotten about you, my dear," she continued, rounding on Korra, who rocked back on her heels under the force of the enthusiasm being directed her way, "for you, I'm thinking-"

_"Ty. Lee." _This was followed by a burst of Nihongo that sounded, to Katara, at least, a lot like, _Right fucking now, if you please._

The girl apparently named _Ty Lee_ stopped in mid-sentence, her hands flying to her face. "Oh, right! Mai! Sorry, maybe when I get back? I have to…_right!_" And with that, she flew out the door, leaving behind a palpable aura of awkwardness that made Katara instantly regret her departure.

Meanwhile, the only Fire Nation girl left shifted her feet, coughed into her hand, and put on a smile. "So, yeah, _that happened._" She gave a little bow. "Sorry about that; I'm sure my friends will be back momentarily. The Lady Mai can be…um…_a bit over-emotional sometimes_. I'm sure you all understand."

Before Katara could clamp a hand over Korra's mouth, the girl had already burst out with the helpful words, "What, her? She seemed like the steadfast sort to me." Katara acted fast, cuffing her charge upside the head and shooting her a glare that said, in no uncertain terms, _What did I tell you about running your mouth? _

Korra rubbed her head, looking appropriately chastised. "Sorry, Katara…"

"Don't say _sorry _to me, Korra," Katara said, crossing her arms. She tilted her head at the red-clad girl across from them.

Korra turned to the girl, still rubbing her head. "Sorry, um…_whatever your name is._ I shouldn't have said that about your friend."

For her part, the girl seemed not the least bit fazed. If anything, she looked downright _amused_. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about it; I have the same problem from time-to-time."

Katara had to struggle very hard to resist the urge to roll her eyes to the heavens. _Oh, great, __**another one. **__Gods give me strength, and please, if you are, indeed, the __**least bit merciful, **__I'd appreciate it if you'd get us through this meeting without the Avatar learning any new swear words. _Out loud, she said, in an even voice, "Don't we all?" She gestured at the meal laid out before them. "Shall we eat?"

The girl bowed her head. "I can't think of anything better to do."

As they settled themselves, Jiayi bowed towards their guest, an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry, but, given the nature of these proceedings, I banished any servants from the room. I'm afraid we're going to have to serve ourselves, Your Highness."

The girl did a very curious thing then. She actually _bristled _when addressed as _Your Highness. _Her jaw clenched and a strange look passed over her glittering golden eyes. Katara felt a strange…_something_, seize at her heart. _It's almost as if…you don't think…_

_ Zuko does that, whenever someone calls him a prince…_

It was all pretty self-evident from there. It all tumbled together; the similar looks, the eyes, the discomfort with trappings and titles, the determined air, and, of course, Lobsang steadfastly refusing to say who Korra's firebending teacher actually _was_, saying, with a sparkle in his eyes, _Trust me, if I told you, none of you would believe me. You have to see her for yourself._

Katara smiled. "If I'm not mistaken, you, my friend, are the Princess Tokugawa Azula."

The girl named Azula's smile almost made Katara bolt from the room and fetch her boyfriend, because she could almost imagine that smile on his face, and right then, she wanted _nothing _more than to see that. "I had a feeling you were smart. I can see why he likes you."

Katara frowned. "How would you know he likes me?"

The smile grew wider, and Katara actually had to shift a bit to keep herself on the floor. _He's right there, don't you realize, right fucking __**there! **_"I was at the ball. I watched your dance." The smile faded then, and a few more things clicked in Katara's head, and her heart began to sink a bit. "We…we all did…"

That's when it all clicked for Korra, too (_or_, Katara thought thankfully, _at least part of it_). "Wait…_you're Zuko's sister!_"

The smile was back on Azula's face. "Yes, my dear, I am, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't do what you're thinking of doing, and find a way to fetch him."

Korra's face fell, as only a teenage girl's could. "Aw, why not?"

"Because," Katara said, eyes locked on Azula's, "we have enough to worry about today, and for the foreseeable future, without risking a royal reunion."

Korra huffed. "Well, that just _sucks. _I mean, from what Katara tells me, the guy talks about you all the time."

Azula looked absolutely _giddy _at that, and Katara decided right there and then that they were going to like each other. "He does? Well, he would…it's easier to brag about me than to admit that he's just as awesome."

"Don't tell him that," Katara said, pouring herself some tea, "he'd stammer and blush for a good _hour_."

"Oh," Azula replied, piling some food on her plate, "you give him _far _too much credit. He'd be out of commission for a good _day_, if someone gave him a compliment like _that_."

"Ah," Katara replied, throwing in a wink, "but now you're underestimating my own powers of persuasion."

The look Azula gave her was one that could only be described as _approving. _"Ooh, I like you. We're keeping you."

"Ahem," Korra cut in, chin thrust out, eyes fierce, "who's to say that _Katara_," a name she said eerily like _Mom_, which never ceased to amaze Katara and, judging by the look on his face, amuse Lobsang, "isn't the one who's going to be doing the keeping?"

Azula nodded, looking impressed. "Hmmm…I like it. Girl Power, amirite?"

Korra giggled. "Girl Power to the _hilt_."

Azula breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, I feel better now. I have to admit, I had some worries…"

Korra looked away, and Katara reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Yeah…you weren't the only one…" She sighed, and then the smile was back. "But we're getting back on track, I like to think. I've mastered waterbending, and Lobsang's beginning airbending, and Toph had me up at the crack of _dawn _to start me on earthbending, and now that you're here…"

Azula turned to Katara (_and not to Lobsang or Jiayi, _she noticed, which filled her with immense pride). "So, we've already pretty much jettisoned the whole, _Learning the arts in the traditional order_, thing?"

Katara shrugged. "Pretty much. I mean, don't get me wrong, we _tried that_, but after a while, it just seemed kind of…well…_stupid._"

"And counter-productive, too," Korra added, around, to Katara's horror, a mouth full of food.

If Azula was appalled, she didn't show it, so Katara decided to stow the etiquette lessons away for a rainy day. _Alright, it's official: Too much time alone around Sokka. _Instead, a thoughtful look on her face, she said, "You know, I never did get why that was considered a big deal. In fact, it seems a lot of what the Avatar is _supposed to do _is just millennia-upon-millennia of tradition."

"_Exactly_," Korra said, finally (to Katara's relief) swallowing her food. "I mean, it's like…um…" A pause, a quick look to Katara, then she stumbled on. "Like a _friend of mine _said, who's to say that, in order to be an Avatar, you have to do this, this, and _this_, in _this order_. Why can't I learn what I need in the way that gets me where I need to go the quickest?"

"Well," Azula said, raising a finger, "rushing is to be avoided. After all, look at what happened to Avatar Aang."

"Yeah," Korra replied, sighing sadly, "rushing isn't good…but I'm not talking about rushing. I'm talking about, why be forced to learn something a set way, if that way doesn't work, either for yourself or the circumstances?"

Azula nodded, a slightly savage look on her face, stabbing her finger into the table. "_That's what I've always said. _Just take my brother, whom it appears you've met. Father forced him to learn all three forms of firebending, even though it was obvious that the Dragon School was the best for him, and he should've been allowed to concentrate on that. It wasn't until he went away to the Academy and got out from under our father that he was allowed to learn in the way best for him, and really progress."

"And what about you?" Korra asked, leaning forward, chin cradled in interwoven hands. "How did _you _learn best?"

"Well," Azula said, placing a hand to her chest, "to be perfectly honest, I'm a bit of a prodigy, but I still had to work hard. I've always found that repetition is the key to really getting things down. In fact, there was this one move-"

"Wait."

Everything stopped. Jiayi and Lobsang were watching the exchange with rapt fascination, while Korra and Azula leaned forward, really enjoying the process. Katara, though, just couldn't really keep track. Once more, she was _hearing _without actually _hearing. _She knew what had been said, by whom, and when, and maybe even _why_, but…_but…_

_ Oh gods…_

The day before, while they snuggled in his room, Katara's turn had come. She had pondered her question, done a little math, and said, "So, you were exiled at eighteen, right?"

Zuko had nodded. "Right. Why?"

"Were you married when you were exiled?"

"No, but I was betrothed. It really broke her heart, when my uncle broke the contract and sent me away, but, I dunno, I've never been able to shake the feeling that it was for the best, for both of us…"

_Shit…_

Korra looked lost, but Azula…well…

_She sees right through me, doesn't she? _Somehow, this didn't bother Katara at all. It helped, because Katara didn't have to speak; she had only to look Azula in the eye, and see the subtle nod, and the smile, and the unspoken, _Thanks, I knew I liked you_, that blazed from every pore.

"Korra?"

"Yes, Katara?"

"Think you'll be alright if I step out for a moment? You have a handle on things?"

Korra rolled her eyes. "Um, _yeah_, I'll be _fine_, Katara." _Ugh, __**Mom**__, _Katara translated, _can't you see I'm __**busy? **__Yeesh._

_ And that's just fine with me. _Rising, she gave a series of quick bows. "I'm very sorry, but it seems I need to step out for a moment. If you all will excuse me…"

With that, she was out the door, racing down the hall, following the confused fingers of various servants responding to her rapidly shouted questions.

* * *

That was fun! At least, I think so. I always like it when I get to show that this nice, friendly Azula is still...well..._Azula. _As I said at the beginning, a lot is going to change, but not as much as one would think.

And Katara's being Katara, figuring shit out fast. Which leads us to...

In the next chapter, Katara finds Mai, and they talk things out. Stay tuned!


	65. MAI IV

MAI

SOMEHOW, MAI WAS NOT IN THE LEAST SURPRISED THAT THE WATER TRIBE GIRL FOUND HER LONG BEFORE SHE WAS READY TO GO BACK INTO THE ROOM. She was standing by an open window, looking out on the estate. She had one of Azula's cigarettes blazing from between her fingers, stolen from a pack that Ty Lee had lifted out of Azula's pocket. She was furiously puffing away, while behind her, Ty Lee prattled on, aimlessly playing with her hair. It was relaxing, in a way that she couldn't quite put into the words. Her new hairdo, so lovingly crafted by her friend that morning, consisted of wearing her hair as naturally as possible, letting it fall long and straight down to the small of her back, a jeweled barrette holding her bangs swept back and behind her right ear. She was just beginning to feel calm, at peace, and in possession of _just enough strength _to head back into the room and issue a heartfelt apology.

_I mean, by the __**gods**__, really, Mai? __**Really? **__Yeesh._

And then Ty Lee's hands disappeared from her hair, and without even knowing she was doing it, Mai was turning, and there, before her, stood the Water Tribe girl, and Mai almost cried all over again.

But she didn't. She was better than that. _Better. _This girl deserved better. Mai's friends deserved better. Zuko deserved better.

_I deserve better._

The girl looked very awkward. She kept nibbling her bottom lip, constantly reaching up to tuck hairs that weren't out of place back behind her ear. With a shock, Mai caught her own tongue flicking out and licking her own lips. She stopped it, put it right back in its place, and tried to speak.

The girl beat her to the punch.

"I…I'm Katara…and you must be…Mai, right?"

Mai could only nod and whisper, "_Yes, that's me…"_

The girl named Katara looked away. "_Right…_look…I…Zuko told me about…that he was…that he was betrothed to someone, and I know that's you…and he told me it was all very hard on you and…" Katara took a breath, and it all came tumbling out. "Look, I'm really sorry, I can't _imagine _how you probably feel, or what you think of me, or what a shock it must've been to walk into that room and see me, but yeah, like I said, I'm sorry, I hate that I made someone feel that way, and you seem like a nice person and Korra really seems to like Azula and I can already tell that you're a good person and I totally already said that and-"

Mai couldn't take it anymore. Seeing this obviously proud, strong, talented young woman reduced to awkward fumbling made her want to smack herself across the face. _See, Mai? This is what you get for acting the fool. _"No, stop, please, stop right there. _I'm _the one who should be apologizing."

Katara's face came up, and her eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms and set her jaw and when she spoke, it was with a force that instantly revealed to Mai why Zuko liked her.

"_Excuse me? _No offense, _my lady_, but you have _nothing _to be sorry for. I mean, come on, you're only human, it was only natural to feel that way."

_Alright, fine, I like her. _Mentally groaning at the amount of crow she was going to have to eat from Ty Lee when she made that admission, she shook her head. "Well, if you don't mind, if _I _have nothing to feel sorry for, than _you _certainly have nothing to feel sorry for. It's not _your _fault that you like the guy I still have a childhood crush on."

Katara rolled her eyes. "Does _every _Fire Nation kid have some kind of freaking complex?"

To Mai's side, Ty Lee snorted, not even bothering to look innocent when Mai turned to try and give her a _look_. Said _look _died a quick death. Turning back to Katara, Mai finally put on a smile and said, "It can seem that way, can't it?"

Katara sighed. "It's really exhausting sometimes, you know that?"

Mai laughed. "I can only imagine, though surely Zuko's gotten better over the years…"

Katara laughed long and hard at that. "You kidding me? You ever tried to give that boy a compliment? Like pulling teeth."

Ty Lee finally let out her giggle. "You should try hitting on him. Guy loses the ability to even _speak._"

Mai rounded on her friend, eyes wide. _Excuse me? _"Wait…when did you ever hit on Zuko?"

Ty Lee shrugged. "Every chance I got…?"

"Why did no one ever mention this to me?"

"He probably never even noticed," Katara observed.

Mai sighed. "Well, _obviously_, I mean, _come on_, but surely _I _should've noticed, you know?"

"Hey," Katara replied, finally looking relaxed, "cut yourself some slack. You were too busy making goo-goo eyes at the guy."

"And what," Mai said, feeling _quite _intrigued, "would _you _know about _goo-goo eyes?_"

Katara giggled, and it was then that Mai noticed that, somehow, they had gotten close enough for Katara to lean back against the windowsill, so that they all faced away from the window and down the hall. "You kidding me? I can't stop making those eyes at the guy."

Mai reacted with genuine shock. "_You? _You're full of it."

Katara shook her head. "It's true! What, you think that, just because I'm a master waterbender and love to kick ass and take names, means I'm immune to swooning over a guy?"

"Well…_yeah._"

"Well, you're wrong." Katara heaved a sigh, and looked up towards where the meeting had, Mai didn't doubt, devolved into Azula showing off some of the firebending tricks she had learned from skulking around Ty Lee's family's circus. "You know what? I'm willing to bet they don't need us up there. What say we hop in whatever contraption brought you guys here, head into town, and grab a drink?"

Mai mulled it over for exactly one second. "Make it at least three, and you're on."

To no one's surprise, Ty Lee's reaction to all this was to suddenly appear in front of the two girls, throw her arms around them, and squeal, "_Wheee! Girl's day out!_"

When Mai looked to Katara in time to catch the eye roll, she knew, right then, that she was going to be alright. Not _happy_, not by any stretch of the imagination, but…well…

_I'm a big girl, and I'm going to be alright._

To that, a voice that sounded remarkably like Azula's boomed inside her brain, asking, _Great, so can we get back to helping to save the world now?_

Naturally, only one reply was possible: _Yeah, but only after the third drink._

* * *

Man, I am _so _glad I finally got Ty Lee into a fic. She's always fun to write. I don't know if she'll ever get her own POV, because that much happiness is exhausting, and you just know there'll be something depressing hiding under that shell, so, _yeah. _Let's just enjoy her being her awesome, bubbly self, yeah?

_Yeah..._

I want to take a quick moment and _not _shit on people who have situations like this turn into _drama, _in the _telenovelas that my wife obsessively watches _sense. When done well, it's actually quite fun, and even when done poorly, it's entertaining. I'm just not that kind of writer; I don't have time for that, and the kind of characters I like to write don't have time for that.

Fun Fact: The reason for this little diatribe is because I had a dream last night wherein I stumbled across a fic that was basically one bit, not-so-subtle dump taken on _A Different Path. _I woke up really pissed off. Is there a fic like that out there? I'm kind of afraid to look. _Anyways..._

Moving on! In the next chapter, a rebel discovers something he doesn't like at all, and meets some familiar faces. Stay tuned!


	66. THE REBEL

THE REBEL

BO CAI, BY THE TIME HE GOT TO THE HEADQUARTERS TENT, WAS IN A TOWERING RAGE. This was, if one is honest, quite a sight to behold. Bo Cai was a rather tall man, well over six feet, with a big barrel chest and broad shoulders and thick hands the size of most men's faces. Even when calm, he walked with a determined air, charging ahead, the top half of his body leaning over his feet like he was forever walking into the teeth of a storm. He wore a thick beard threaded with grey that quivered as he ground his jaw, and his hand was always opening and closing on the hilt of his _jian_, as if he was always on the verge of striking off the nearest head, just for a change of pace. When he spoke, his voice rumbled from the depths of his belly like a bellows, and his words were choked out in a voice like crushed gravel, rough and forceful like the earth that he bent like it was water. Even the most hardened veteran was terrified of him, and he had been known to make the freshest volunteers, straight from the farms they had run off from, faint at his very approach.

When he was angry, it was worse.

The sight that greeted him when he barged into the tent did nothing to calm him. There, bent over a map of the local area, was his second-in-command, Deng Mao, a thin, spare man whose physique and squeaky voice belied his ferociousness in battle. Various adjutants and officers clustered around the edges, nodding, lips pursed in thought. All were dressed in the usual varied browns and greens and haphazard, patchwork uniforms of the rebels who fought every day to bring an end to the accursed Occupation. Many were young, with the fire of rebellion and defiance glowing in their eyes.

But that wasn't what made him angry.

What made Bo Cai angry, what sent him ever higher into levels of fury even he had never known he was capable of, were the people there in the tent who were not his, the people with whom Deng Mao was currently bent over the map, talking in hushed, excited tones. These were not rebels, not soldiers in mottled uniforms, not exiles in their own land. Bo Cai had only to glance at them once to see that they were, in fact, criminals, brigands, possibly even worse than the disorganized bands that ranged over the northeast, independent of command and discipline, whose depredations rivaled those of the fire-breathing scum Bo Cai hated with every fiber of his being.

His eyes narrowed, and he saw red.

_**"What is the meaning of this?!"**_

Time seemed to stop. The curious, eager expressions of his officers vanished, replaced by blank, white looks of fear and the shifty, beady eyes of children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Deng Mao snapped upright, jumping to attention, sweat already beginning to gather at his brow and trickle down his face. Bo Cai stormed up to him, one fist clenched on the hilt of his _jian_, body trembling with rage.

_"Just what in all the fucking __**hells **__is going on here?!" _he stormed, face so close to Deng's that the brim of Bo Cai's hat was bouncing off the man's forehead. Deng tried to speak, to stammer out a response, but Bo saw all that he needed, writ plain as day in the man's eyes. He rounded on the visitors, _the strangers_, slamming his palms down on the table so hard it creaked. _"What the __**fuck **__is going on here and just who the __**fuck **__are __**YOU?!"**_

He addressed himself at the woman, for reasons he did not quite know, and never would. Like a cat uncoiling itself from a nap, the woman slowly stood, a strange smile creasing her face. She reached out a hand, and one of her lackeys made a handkerchief materialize there. Still having not spoken a word, or even so much as _looked _at Bo, she slowly wiped his spittle from her face, dropped the cloth into the lackey's hand, crossed her arms (thus bringing the tattoo on her upper left arm within Bo's gaze), and said, in a bored, disinterested tone, "General Bo Cai, I presume? You know, I was raised on stories of your courage, bravery, and never-ending defiance to the Fire Nation."

If Bo had had vanity to tickle, this no doubt would have melted him somewhat. As it was, General Bo Cai, he who had fought the Fire Nation since his fifteenth birthday, he who had risen from the ranks in the stultified ranks of first the Imperial Army, and then the underground army that attempted to take its place, he who had once defied then-Crown Prince Iroh himself in battle, slipping away under cover of darkness in good order after inflicting five casualties for every one of his, he who now prepared, slowly, carefully, every day, for the final rebellion, cared about only three things, and three things only:

Continued defiance, victory, and then, someday, the gods willing, _peace._

_ Such a man has no room for vanity._

"You haven't answered my question," he growled, reaching once more for the hilt of his sword. "Who the _fuck _are you and what the _fuck _are you doing in _my gods-damn __**camp?!"**_

The smile remained, and if anything, grew wider. "Well, shouldn't be obvious? I'm delivering orders, outlining a plan from on high to finally strike a blow in this district that has remained too quiet for too long." She paused, and leaned in, eyes dancing with a predatory gleam. "_Surely _you agree with those words."

As it happened, Bo did not, but that was beside the point. "I don't know you, whoever you are."

"My name is Jun," she said, raising a hand to examine her nails, "but that doesn't matter. Do you know everyone who works for Central Command? Surely I'm not the first unknown face to bring orders to you?"

"You aren't," he admitted, the hackles on the back of his neck rising, at what, he couldn't say. Feeling lost and confused, but no less angry, he stretched out a hand. "Give me these orders."

"Oh," the woman who called herself _Jun _said, looking pleasantly surprised, "you can read? I was under the impression that you were born a poor peasant."

"_I taught myself_," he answered, anger rising anew in great, crashing waves.

She shrugged. "Very well. Ping, give him the documents."

A man appeared then, and Bo loathed him immediately. The man seemed plain to the point of invisibility, but there was something, _something…_

_ Something about his __**eyes…**_

"You," Bo growled, "are Fire Nation."

The man shrugged, and when he spoke, it was in the strange accent of the older Fire Nation colonies. "Surely I'm not the only dissident or disaffected colonial you've seen in the ranks?"

_That voice… _There was something about it that Bo instinctively despised. Something about how cool it was, how flat, how devoid of the slightest bit of emotion. _No human being should be able to speak like that. _"Whatever," he said, emotions straining within, snapping at the bit to be unleashed, "just give me these gods-damn orders."

Ping shrugged, and handed over a cylinder marked with the official seal of the underground army. Bo snatched it away, tore off the lid, grabbed the papers in a balled fist. He read through them, fast and quick, stopped, looked up, down, read through them again. "This…this makes no sense," he choked out, voice thick with disbelief. "This goes contrary to everything I've previously been told, everything I've been preparing for."

Ping continued to stand, looking bored; it was Jun who answered. "Who cares? Those are your orders, and orders, as you know…well…_are orders_." She stopped, and lowered her face, so that her eyes seemed to shine from deep wells of darkness cast by her brows. "Surely you are not one of those half-wild brigands, who obey only themselves and their stomachs?"

Bo shook his head. "No, I'm not." He read the so-called _orders _again. Words, fragments, phrases, floated up, like a mob baying for blood in a thousand-thousand voices…a thousand-thousand voices…_and none._

_ Isolated Fire Nation detachment…far from any support…set off chain reaction…raise the entire district…quiet for too long…proceed immediately…eliminate with extreme prejudice…be advised…Fire Nation VIP present…mere junior officer…to be taken alive…handed over to those who deliver orders…gods be with you…_

He shook his head. _This makes no __**sense. **_He crumpled up the orders, tossed them to the ground, stood tall, chin out, shoulders back. "I'm sorry," he said, voice firm, "but I can't follow these orders. I will have to send for clarification to Central Command."

Jun sighed, shoulders slumping. "You do realize that there is a very small window of opportunity here. For maximum effect, this attack must take place at a certain spot, at a certain time, on a certain day, to insure against intervention either from collaborationist elements in the town, or its parent regiment."

Bo nodded, while at his waist, his hand loosened his _jian _in its scabbard. "I understand that. Be that as it may, this goes against all previous directives. If you really _are _from Central Command, then surely you understand the broader picture here. We are not preparing for desultory raids or haphazard peasant uprisings. A wide, over-arching strategy is in place here."

_And besides, you are not a solider; no one from Central Command would rattle off terminology in a voice that makes it clear that they learned it yesterday._

"And besides that," he continued, sending subtle nods at his officers, telling them without words to _get ready, this could get bloody_, "this is primarily a training camp. This whole district is dotted with them; that's why we keep things quiet."

Jun shrugged. "Is that your final word? Do you really insist on defying _Central Command? _Are you aware of the price for disobedience?"

He nodded. "I am. Just as you are no doubt aware of the penalty for playing the kind of game you're playing."

She heaved a heavy sigh. "Very well. Ping, punish this traitor."

He never saw the man called Ping move. He would remember that, right up until he took his final breath, and he had no doubt he would mull over it in the afterlife. _I never saw him __**move. **_All he knew, all he would ever know, was the blinding pain, the flash, the searing slashes that sliced across his body, the blood that spurted through the gash that appeared, as if from nothingness, in his throat, the sticky, liquid iron that began to squelch between his teeth and spread like molten sludge across his tongue. He fell to his knees, looked up at the man with the knife that shined in the flickering torchlight, Bo's life-force dripping far too red from the blade, a bored look on the man called Ping's face.

Somewhere, a woman's voice, bored, disinterested, done with it all.

"I hope that a further lesson in obedience will not be necessary. Has my point been made clear?"

A long, dreadful pause. _What is happening? _Bo didn't understand. Even when his eyes slid to the side, watched first Deng, then all of the other officers, bow, all of them trembling with fear, even as their faces burned with eagerness to strike a blow against Fire Nation, against oppression, against tyranny, against the measured, steady, slow, excruciating pass of _the broader picture._

They all bowed, and said, as one, _"Yes, ma'am."_

The woman's voice again.

"Excellent. Ping, be so kind as to end the great _Bo Cai_."

Bo looked up, saw Ping, saw him shrug, as if to say, _Nothing personal, but we all have to do what we all have to do. _Then the knife flashed, like sparks in the night, and the soldier, the rebel, the man who dreamed every night of the family the Fire Nation destroyed, of the children he had never had time to have, the man known as Bo Cai, knew no more.

* * *

Well, damn, shit just got real, didn't it? But that's what happens when a war's on. Things flow along, and then, suddenly, without warning, _shit gets real._

For those playing the home game, _Bo Cai _was one of the leaders of the Yellow Turban Rebellion with toppled the Later Han Dynasty, while _Deng Mao _is the name of a leader in the same rebellion, only a fictional one, who is featured in _Romance of the Three Kingdoms. _Just some fun facts there.

Also, for those who are thinking, _How does the Fire Nation not know about these training and staging areas? _Some might. There are probably greedy administrators and generals who are getting nice, fat bribes to look the other way (no doubt Lord Bei Fong and others like him have something to do with that). But, more than that, you'd be surprised to know how easy it is to hide large forces right in front of one's nose, especially if one thinks that one is in a safe area. All one has to do is read about the Tet Offensive, where the Americans and the South Vietnamese were caught completely off guard by massive forces of Viet Cong and North Vietnamese regulars who surged out right from under their noses. _And that was with fairly modern armies, too, who had much less ground to cover than the Fire Nation._

Worth a thought.

Moving on! In the next chapter, the Lady Ursa prays, and receives a visitor, and hopes her prayers are answered. Stay tuned!


	67. URSA I

URSA

SHE BEGAN HER DAY AS SHE ALWAYS DID, AS SHE HAD FOR AS LONG AS SHE COULD REMEMBER. This was her life now, the only life she allowed herself to know. To think beyond that, to think beyond the day before, beyond the day to come, was to fall into despair, to crawl into a well of darkness from which she could never return, from which no human being was strong enough to see even the faintest glimmer of light, far, far away.

She woke in darkness, alone. She rose before the sun, because it had been a long time since the sun had brought anything but pain. Once, it had brought joy, the smile of her son, the laughter of her daughter, but she did not think of that. _Could not think of that. _Her darkness was such that the light could bring nothing but more darkness.

She rolled out of bed, and bowed, first to the portrait of His Majesty, her brother-in-law, that loomed in the darkness. She bowed once, twice, three times, turned her back, fell to her knees. On her knees, she crawled, inch-by-inch, with no pads, across a stretch of hard wood she had forbidden the servants to lay carpet across. First one knee, than the other. There, in the darkness, she reached a cupboard. She opened it, eyes half-closed, praying, praying, praying. She moved by memory, slow, gentle gestures, fluid, like the wind and the rain.

Inside, there were two portraits, side-by-side, above a third. The portrait on the right was of her son, her beloved Zuko. He wore his cadets' uniform, and he was trying so hard not to smile, so hard to sit still for the portrait his mother had commissioned on the day of his graduation. He was bright and young and full of pride, and his face was whole. There was no darkness in his eyes.

On the left, was her daughter, a portrait from her sixteenth birthday. Even in the portrait, she looked bored, _done with it all_, but like her brother, her lips quirked up in a ghost of a smile. The woman named Ursa looked at that smile, and remembered, remembered how, when the artist had begun to work on the mouth, Zuko had appeared behind him, fresh from the Academy, and started making faces. A week later, he had gone to that fateful meeting, and never truly returned. When the artist noticed the quirking smile, he had fallen to his knees and offered to redraw it all, for no commission.

Ursa had, instead, paid him double. She had lost a tooth in the beating that followed.

The bottom portrait was of a young man before he turned old. The portrait was very old, and, Ursa hoped, very secret. The man's name was Roku, and he was her ancestor, for it was true that the blood of an Avatar ran in Ursa's veins.

She struck a match in the darkness, and the world blazed to life. She pulled out three incense sticks, and lit them in turn.

"For you, my son," she prayed, as she set in place the first stick. "May your sword never dull, may your armor never crack, may your spirit never falter, may your love always be returned, and may you never give up."

"For you, my daughter," she prayed, placing the second stick. "May your wit never dull, may your fire never weaken, may your spirit never falter, may your will never crack, may your love always be returned, may your forgiveness one day be earned, and may you never give up."

She hesitated for the third stick, as she always did. Finally, she placed it, and prayed, in a voice she struggled to keep free of hate: "And for you, my ancestor, may I one day forgive you for the hell you allowed this world to become, and may you, in penance, give me the strength to never give up."

She prayed, prayed for a long time. The incense burned, flickered, and went out, just as the sun began to peek through the cracks in the walls. Somewhere, her husband slept off his latest bender, in his bed of whores and sin and hate, and still she prayed. The Palace came to life around her, and still she prayed. Somewhere, her children, her beloved children, the son who the world thought she had abandoned, the daughter who she knew hated her, woke, lived, and, she hoped, loved, and still she prayed.

The world came to life, stretched, walked, bled, died, and still she prayed.

Behind her, the door opened, soft, measured, and still she prayed. A man entered, bowed low, announced something in the cadenced bass tones of His Majesty's personal servants, and still, she prayed. Another man entered, and walked to her side, and settled upon his knees beside her, and still she prayed. The man began to pray along with her, and still…

_She prayed…_

She only stopped praying when her Lord and Sovereign, His Majesty the Fire Lord, Iroh, of the Clan Tokugawa, Phoenix King, Ruler of All Four Nations, Master of Fire and Water, Earth and Air, opened his mouth, and began to speak.

"My Lady Ursa, I pray that you are well."

She bowed her head, averted her gaze, and spoke in a voice she no longer recognized as her own.

"As well as could be expected, Your Grace."

A chuckle, like tempered oak bending in a soft breeze.

"That poorly, my lady?"

Another bow of the head.

"If that is Your Grace's will."

A sigh, sad and heavy as all the oceans of the world.

"Do not fear, my lady. I will not speak to my brother of this shrine, of your prayers, just as I will not command that you stop praying for your children and to your ancestors. After all, I, too, pray every morning, for guidance, and for the souls of my children."

A bow of the head, mechanical, like clockwork.

"As Your Majesty commands, Your Grace. I thank you for your mercy."

The oak bent and cracked in the reply that he gave.

"You have no reason to thank me for my mercy, not today, and not ever. If you openly prayed for my demise, and the fall of my dynasty, I would consider that only right and proper."

She could not bow to that. She could not blink. She could barely even speak. All she could do was to raise her head, eyes wide and confused, and look to her brother-in-law, there in the dwindling darkness. She saw him there, in the shadow cast by the doors of the shrine. His eyes looked very sad, and his gaze honed in on her children, and seemed very far away.

"Your Majesty…?"

He sighed, and bowed his head.

"I came this morning for one reason, and one reason only, my lady: I came to apologize."

She looked away, back to her children.

"His Majesty never has cause to apologize. He acts only as he sees fit, and it is the will of the gods that his actions always be right."

A laugh, soft and low, like rocks tumbling down into a stream.

"A textbook answer, my lady. Your education serves you well, even if the lessons it drilled into you do not. No, I have much to apologize for, to you more than anyone."

She swallowed the tears, just as she had every day, every day since the hour this very man pronounced her son's doom, and, without knowing he did it, her daughter's.

"You see," he continued, "today, as I said, I come to apologize. But apologies mean nothing without actions, as even the Fire Lord must know. Today, I take the first step towards righting a great wrong, and I do that by making sure you are the first to know."

"I do not understand, Your Grace."

"Ah, my dear, but you will. I come to tell you that your prayers, I hope, are answered. I have decided that you and your children have been punished enough. I have decided, as I should have decided long ago, to no longer appease your husband, and the hardliners and radicals he gathers to his bosom like moths to a flame. I will remove him from his official positions, _such as they are_, and cast him from the Palace. His behavior has gone too far; it has become a cancer, and it is time I burned it out. When that is done, I will rescind my brave nephew's banishment; when his term of enlistment is done, he will have the option to renew it, or come home. I will personally go and award him the decorations he has been denied. I will encourage him to attend the General Staff Academy, and begin to move up the chain of command, as is his right, by both birth and ability. It is my solemn hope that, seeing this, my beloved niece, so brave, so talented, so gifted, will finally return to us, and will hate us no more."

For a long time, she did not know what to do. She did not move, she did not speak, she did not even _breath_. No, she kneeled, the hard wood beneath her knees seemingly becoming one with her bones, the cold seeping into her veins.

_It can't be, _she told herself. _It can't…it can't __**be.**_

"Why?" Her voice cracked as she spoke, and that one word was all she trusted herself to say.

"Because I was wrong. I hoped to appease your husband's faction at court, and prevent a horrid episode from becoming a scandal. In so doing, I sacrificed those who deserved my loyalty and protection, and gave that loyalty and protection to those who deserved nothing. That ends, starting today. My son has failed me, my daughters are selfish and empty-headed, and even my grandchildren give me no reason for hope. It is time I looked elsewhere for the future." A pause. "My lady."

She turned to him once more, and to her shock, nay, _her horror_, her brother-in-law, master of all he surveyed, except, it seemed, his own family, had bowed as so many bowed to him, palms pressed against the wood beneath them, forehead driven into the floor. He rose, bowed, rose, bowed a final time, rose again.

"My lady, I pray for your forgiveness, and humbly request that you add my prayers to your own from here on out."

She looked away, to her children, to the strength they carried that she thanked the gods every day that they got from somewhere, for surely it was not from her.

"And what should I say in these prayers, Your Majesty?"

He rose, leaned down, kissed her softly on the forehead.

"Pray that I am not too late. Pray that the gods do not see fit to punish me for my pride, and my errors. Good day, my lady."

It was not until the doors closed behind him that she finally allowed herself to cry.

It was a long time before she stopped. Then, she took out three more sticks of incense, lit them, and began to pray again. She did not stop until the sun fell once more.

* * *

The plot thickens! Also, it's Ursa! See, I promised that I wasn't going to butcher her.

She's actually done more for her children than they really, truly know. Just throwing that out there. Keep watch for it.

But enough about that! I think that's actually a good spot to stop for the day. More to follow tomorrow!

In the next chapter, Korra trains, bonds with Toph and Azula, and tells a harrowing story that she desperately needs to tell. Stay tuned!


	68. KORRA IV

KORRA

ON TUESDAY, TOPH BEGAN HER EDUCATION WITH A STRING OF OBSCENITIES BEFORE THE SUN EVEN ROSE. On Wednesday, Toph won two fights, and Korra met the Princess Azula, and, when they got back from town, red-faced, accompanied by an equally red-faced Katara, her friends, both of whom Korra liked, though she liked Azula best, because Azula knew the best tricks. On Thursday, Toph had another fight, which, of course, she won; Katara snuck off to Zuko again, and Korra spent the day watching the fights with Sokka and, in the evening, listening to Lobsang tell stories.

On Friday, before the gods themselves awoke, two pairs of hands grabbed Korra from the depths of a dream that was pleasant for a change, yanked her from her bed, and rolled her to the floor hard enough to make her bounce, with the result that her first coherent thoughts were to wonder when Toph had started cackling in two voices.

It all made sense with depressing speed.

_"Come on, you lazy lily-liver! Now's not the time for wet dreams!" _came a frustratingly familiar voice in Guangzhou, followed by hysterical giggles at Korra's groans.

_"There is a time for sleeping and a time for bending," _came another voice, imperious as only a princess could be, in Nihongo, _"and now is not one of those fucking times!"_

Korra opened her eyes, the world thick and hazy with sleep. There, looming over her, illuminated by light through shutters that had just been slammed open, were two girls, one with pale, milky green eyes, the other older, looking a little wiser, with eyes of glittering gold. The girls were dressed in rough work-out clothes, and neither one could stop laughing. Korra groaned and threw the pillow she still had clutched to her chest at them, she didn't particularly care which. They, of course, dodged the pillow, and set to laughing anew.

"Now that _that's _out of the way," Azula roared, "it's time for your morning exercises!"

_"It's too early for exercises," _Korra growled, burying her face behind her hands and rolling onto the floor.

"It's _never _too early for some morning fucking exercises!" Toph yelled, grabbing her roughly and pulling her to her feet. "What, you think I got this awesome by sleeping in?"

"It wouldn't shock me," Azula observed.

"Yeah, well," Toph replied, puffing her bangs off of her nose, "I wanted to try, but _Dad _insisted that _hard work was the key to success in all endeavors._"

"And what did you say to that?"

"I told him to shove it, then _got to fucking work! _Which brings me to _you!" _Toph rounded on Korra and shoved her hard in the stomach. "What're you standing around for? _I want to see twenty fucking push-ups __**right fucking now!"**_

Azula struck a thoughtful pose. "Only twenty? For all the time she's taking, why not make it forty?"

"By that reasoning," Korra replied, painfully getting down to the floor and assuming the position, "why not make it _sixty?"_

"What an excellent idea!" Toph said, socking Azula lightly in the arm. "Hundred push-ups, _now!_"

Korra rolled her eyes. "Really?"

"Whine just a bit more," Azula threatened, doing nothing to hide her smile, "and we'll make it _two hundred. __**Now move!"**_

The morning proceeded a lot like that. She did push-ups and sit-ups and arm exercises and leg exercises. Before she was even fully aware of who she was and what was happening, she was outside, lapping a remote couple of acres of the estate, Toph and Azula jogging to each side of her, shouting abuse and praising each other's obscenity-filled witticisms. They seemed to find it very amusing that, seeing as everyone understood each other's native languages, they could freely hurl abuse in their native tongues. It was all very strange, a bit surreal, and Korra would be a liar if she said she didn't _kind of, sort of _enjoy it.

_No_, she reminded herself, as they started their sixth lap, _I hate it. I really do. __**I hate it. **__I'd have to be __**crazy **__to enjoy, like, __**any part of this.**_

_Since when were you not crazy? _another voice pointed out to her. She had no response to that, so she just lowered her head and did her best to out-run her coaches.

The sun finally came, and with it, breathing exercises. There were lessons in philosophy and technique. Toph put her in a handstand and tied a blindfold around her eyes and admonished her to _feel the fucking earth, right in your fucking soul. _Still not taking off the blindfold, Azula put her in a basic form, apparently the first children learned in the Fire Nation, and, in an obscenity-laden monologue, waxed eloquent about manipulating one's _inner fire_, about _feeling the sun in your veins_, and an outburst to the tune of, _Gods, isn't this fucking fantastic? I fucking __**love **__firebending!_

There was more, in a dizzying succession. There were demonstrations, as Korra's teachers showed her basic offensive and defensive forms and sequences. There were endless rounds of moving through the forms, critiques of her stance and her posture, demands for exquisite perfection, and, at one point, what felt like a solid _hour _wherein Toph and Azula left Korra in a very painful firebending form, sweat pouring from every pore, while the two engaged in a lively debate (_again, still in two different languages_) about who, between Zuko and Katara, spent the most time on top.

When Korra ventured to offer her own thoughts (_which largely consisted of asking for clarification as to what that actually __**meant**_), both girls rounded on her and screamed, in unison, _"Did we tell you to speak, maggot?! __**No!**__" _That done, they went right back to their discussion, which, it seemed to Korra, was never settled, nor, did it appear to her, was it ever supposed to be.

It should be mentioned, by the way, that, at no point, was Korra actually allowed to _bend. _

Korra had no idea how much time had passed when they finally took a break. A pair of servants had appeared, bearing trays piled with food and water, and the teachers and their student settled down for a hearty meal. As they ate, Azula lit up, and set to smoking one cigarette after another at a rate that made Korra's head swirl. Washing down a big bite with a couple gulps' worth of water, Korra wiped her mouth and asked (in Inuktitut, since that seemed to be the order of the day), "Does everyone in the Fire Nation smoke?"

Azula shrugged, lighting two cigarettes at once and passing one to Toph, who thanked her with a belch. "Nice one," Azula complimented, before turning back to Korra. "But yeah, pretty much. I'm not sure tobacco cultivation started in the Fire Nation, but we certainly perfected it. Probably something to do with our national obsession with setting shit on fire."

"Actually," Toph observed, picking dirt from between her toes with one hand while she shoved food into her face with the other, "I'm pretty sure tobacco _does _come, originally, from the Fire Nation. At least, smoking started there, and spread to the other nations."

"You know," Korra mused, waving a random smoke cloud away from her face, "it really is starting to seem to me that the divisions between the nations are utterly meaningless. Everywhere you look, somebody is borrowing, adapting, or outright _stealing _something from someone else."

"What?" Azula replied, looking incredulous. "You just now realized that?"

"Hey," Korra shot back, "I'm learning, okay? Two years ago, I didn't even know how to _read._"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Toph asked. "I'm sixteen, and I don't know how to fucking read."

"Yeah," Azula said, pointing with her cigarette, "but you're also _blind_, so, you know, not really a good case study there."

"It's a good case study if I _say _it's a good fucking case study, Princess Bitch."

Azula broke into a wide, happy smile. "Ooh! Is that my official nickname? _I love it._"

Toph scoffed. "_You would._"

"What's my brother's?"

"_Sparky_. Sokka's _Snoozles_, Katara's _Sugar Queen_-"

"Appropriate now more than ever, if you think about it."

"I know, right? Sometimes, I impress even myself. But yeah, you're _Princess Bitch_, your uptight friend is _Gloomy Hairbuns_-"

"_Hairbuns?"_

"Eh, I heard that the whole _hairbun _thing is big in the Fire Nation."

"It used to be, but Ty got her to stop wearing those just the other day."

"Meh. It's a work in progress. Also, real quick, does your friend Ty like girls?"

Azula pondered it for a moment. "Not that I'm aware of, but this is Ty we're talking about here. She'll try anything at least once."

"Hmmm…and what about you?"

Azula shook her head. "I'm all about the boys. Sorry, sweetheart."

Toph shrugged. "Eh. Win some, lose some. I won't even _bother _asking about Gloomy McGloomerson."

"Oooh!" Azula gave an appreciative nod. "I _like _that one. I'm not sure where you're getting the whole _gloomy _bit, though. She's really not that gloomy."

"She acts like it, though," Korra pointed out, finally joining a conversation that, not only did she not understand, but that had, towards the end, started making her feel vaguely uncomfortable and confused in ways she didn't quite comprehend and wasn't sure how she felt about. "I mean, in public, at least."

"Which is how I first met her," Toph explained, dropping her cigarette into one of the almost-empty water carafes, "when she was in the midst of her whole, _I'm a gloomy, bored Fire Nation lady, and I haven't the least bit of time for the likes of __**you.**_ But, while we're on the subject of being _gloomy…_hey, Korra?"

"Hmm?" Korra replied, her mouth full of food.

"Why the fuck were you guys all so fucking moody when you got here? I mean, I get it's a touchy subject, but Princess and I are about to run off into the wild blue yonder with you, so, it probably behooves us to know what the fuck happened before we got our party invites."

_Gods…and we were all having such a good time, too. _A pause, while she considered this statement. _I think…? _

Azula seemed to read her mind, a sympathetic look on her face. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's cool, Korra." She turned to Toph, having at some point lit herself a new cigarette. "I can actually fill you in on the gist of what went down."

"What," Toph said, licking her fingers clean, forcing Korra to hope beyond hope that those were not the same fingers she was just using to pick the dirt from her toes, "like that you were the _Blue Spirit _that saved their asses, like, a year ago?"

Korra choked, sending two streams of water burning through her nostrils, while Azula shrugged and said, "Well, _yeah_. I figured that was a given."

Korra started beating on her chest, her face flushing hot and heavy as she coughed up her shock (along with some water). "No, wait…_that was you?"_

Azula rolled her eyes. "Who did you think it was? Some _dude?_"

Korra was still shaking her head, and seeing a few spots. "Well, Sokka thinks so…"

Toph scoffed. "Yeah, well, Sokka's the world's most intelligent idiot."

"So, a lot like my brother?" Azula observed.

"Pretty much," Toph replied. "Why else would they get along so well? Also," and here, she leveled an accusing finger, "_nice try. _I'm not going to be denied so easily."

Azula put on an innocent face. "Who, _me? _I don't know what you're talking about."

Korra finally had herself under control (_barely_, she admitted; her throat still felt a bit raspy and her nostrils tingled rather unpleasantly). "No," she said, bowing her head, "it's cool, Azula. Toph's right; I have to tell you guys _eventually._"

_No matter how much I don't want to…_

"I agree," Azula replied, giving her a kind smile before rounding on Toph with a glare, "though it could have been put with a bit more _tact._"

Toph scoffed. "_Tact? _The fuck is _that? _Sounds like something babies spit up."

"You would think that."

"Are you guys bickering," Korra asked, feeling once more a bit lost, "or flirting?"

"Who's to say it can't be both?" Azula replied.

"Hey now," Toph growled, looking annoyed, "you said you didn't dig girls."

"Yeah, but I never said I wasn't a tease."

Toph's eyes narrowed, a thin smile creasing her face. "You're evil. We're keeping you."

Azula performed a dramatic little hair flip. "I try."

"Somehow," Korra observed, still feeling not the least bit enlightened, "I doubt that. But," and here, she paused, and took a deep, calming breath, "I believe you guys had a question…"

It was a long time before she started speaking, or, at least, it felt that way to her. It was another gorgeous day, full of sunshine and billowing clouds and the grass whispering in the wind. It was cool and fresh and light, and birds were singing, and somewhere, there was the soft chime of children playing in a stream.

_Not like the North at all…_

She told it all, leaving nothing out, sparing no one, least of all herself. She told them about their arrival in Iqaluit, about how High King Arnook and his nobles fawned over her while giving Katara and Sokka the cold shoulder. She talked about how strange the North was, how it made no sense, how they had to be very careful not to disturb or attract the notice of the small Fire Nation garrison in the city. She admitted to the rage she felt, every day she woke up and those _fire-breathing demons _were still there, how she felt cold and angry every time she saw a couple walking through the streets, how it felt like even the minor indignities of Fire Nation overlordship, here in a land that had been spared full occupation, seemed, to her, like the straws that were finally going to break the camel-elephant of her patience.

She talked of how hard it was to control her fury, about the trials of the previous year, about how she still felt raw and bleeding from their brief capture by the Crown Prince, and about how a polite Fire Nation lieutenant with half a face and the girl she considered her mother's heart had proved her so very wrong about a young man who called himself _Jet. _She talked about how her guardians began to settle in, about Sokka's whirlwind, forbidden romance with a princess, about how Katara attained new heights of mastery over her element with a man named Pakku, who ignored his own people's laws and traditions to teach her.

Her voice faltered then, and she wondered if she was the only one who felt suddenly very small, and very cold. She gripped her arms, and pulled into herself, and marveled at how, no matter how much time had passed, she couldn't say the name _Zhao._

Zhao, it seemed, had been sent for some kind of _show of force_, to make sure the Northern Water Tribe didn't begin to think it could get restless, like the Earth Kingdom was beginning to become. The choice made no sense to her; Zhao was mean, cruel, a bully, hated even by his own subordinates.

Azula cut in here, with a soft, quiet explanation. "Zhao was a political choice. He was a close ally of my father's, and, by extension, of the hardliners and fanatics who use my father as a puppet against my uncle. Uncle probably felt that he could throw them this bone, and believed he could trust Zhao to carry out a simple exercise in saber-rattling."

"Well," Toph observed, "it would appear that he was wrong."

"He wasn't," Korra whispered, in a voice that barely felt like her own. "Zhao tried to provoke things, but the North held firm."

"What happened?" Toph asked.

_"I did."_

One night, she was out walking, alone. She had argued with Katara and run off, right into the port area, where she stumbled into what later turned out to have been just a drunken brawl between Northern warriors and Fire Nation sailors. She had assumed the worst, seen the worst, _known the worst_, and all of her hate and frustration and loathing, a brief lifetime of terrifying stories told over a campfire, burst out. She over-flowed with rage, and somehow, before she knew what was happening, she had gone into the Avatar State, and Zhao had his excuse.

She related the rest in bits and pieces, because that was how it came to her, like holes eaten by moths into a dusty old fabric from the back of the closet. Zhao hurled his men, unprepared, haphazard, into a furious assault. The city appeared to her, awash in fire and ice and blood, screams and battle cries echoing through the snow and the fog and the night. There was Zhao again, slicing his way into the heart of the city, no one sure of what was going on, least of all her, because she was too busy hurling water and death while Katara tried desperately to protect her and get her away.

Zhao killing a god.

The moon turning red as blood.

The headlong race back to the Spirit Oasis.

A crying young woman, cradling a dead fish.

A fish, speaking into her very soul.

_A god, tearing that soul apart…_

"Katara pulled me out," Korra finished, wiping unshed tears from her eyes. "She tried to get to me, get past the god possessing me, tried to show me that the Fire Nation troops were surrendering, that they were horrified, scared, that Zhao's own men had put him in chains, that the moon was back, but I couldn't hear. The god wouldn't let me. The Spirit of the Ocean picked her up and hurled her into a wall. That's…that's how she got the scar, the big one on her calf."

"I hadn't noticed a scar," Azula whispered.

"I bet your brother has," Toph sallied, her spirit not seeming to be in it.

"Hush," Azula barked.

To Korra's surprise and ever-lasting shock, Toph complied.

She pressed on. "But that didn't stop Katara. She limped right back, and stood before me, _the me who wasn't really me anymore_, and even though she could barely stand, even though blood was pouring from her leg and she was banged and bruised and crying from the pain, _commanded the god to let me go._"

"So…wait…" Toph raised her hands, and when she spoke, her voice was thin with disbelief. "You're telling me that…that Sugar Queen…when she told me she once stood up to a god, _she wasn't exaggerating?!_"

Korra shook her head, and a thin smile creased her face. "What, you didn't believe her?"

Toph shrugged. "I didn't know what to think."

"I knew I liked that girl," Azula observed. "What happened?"

Korra shrugged. "It released me. It let me go, and slunk back into its mortal form."

"And Zhao's men forced him to commit _seppuku_, and my uncle has been scrambling to repair the damage ever since," Azula finished for her.

Korra nodded. "Pretty much."

Toph stood, and all watched in shock and awe as she bowed low, face full on contrition. "I'm sorry, Korra; I shouldn't have dragged that out of you."

Korra felt her smile reach her eyes, and it was like the last wisps of sadness and pain and guilt finally unleashed her heart and slid back into the darkness. "It's alright, it really is. I mean it. I…I had to fess up sometime, right? And, honestly, I feel a lot better for it…" Here, she faltered. She bit her lip and began playing with her hair. "So long as…you guys don't hate me, do you?"

Toph scoffed as she settled back down. "_Hate you? Please. _Let's face it: In your shoes, I would've probably done the same damn thing. What about you, Princess?"

Azula shrugged. "I like to think I'd have followed my friends' advice, but who knows? It's easy to judge when you're not there, when you're not sixteen anymore. I'm mostly just floored at finding out just how badass my brother's new girlfriend is."

"Well," Korra said, almost bursting into tears in gratitude for the subject change, "to tell you the truth, it's not exactly _new._"

Azula's eyebrow popped up, and she was leaning forward, eyes aglow with curiosity. "Oh? _Do tell._"

Korra let go of her hair, and let her voice drop into a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, don't tell Katara I told you this, _but…"_

It wasn't until the afternoon came that her teachers finally let her bend. It wasn't much, just basic, children's forms, repeated over and over again, but it was enough. She closed her eyes and let her body move with the fire, shudder with the earth. She burned away her pain, smothered out her fear, and, when night came, she recognized the girl in the mirror for the first time in far too long.

* * *

The first time I told my wife the full story of my version of _The Siege of the North_, her mouth actually dropped open. She looked at me, blinked, and said, "Jesus, that's _badass. _You _have _to put that whole story in the fic." See, she knows very well my predilection for leaving as much as possible unstated and subtly implied.

As usual, though, she reins in my more evil impulses. I hope it was worth the wait.

Also, from here on out, anytime a reviewer pops up and is all, "Hey, what happened at the North? He didn't explain that!", I hope you guys will kindly point him to the chapter entitled _Korra IV._

This chapter, more than anything else, by the way, really does show that I'm a good Catholic boy. Confession really is good for the soul, and it's always nice to know that people who don't _have _to love us, at least like us, by their own choice.

_Moving on..._

In the next chapter, our favorite waterbender gets ready for a date. Stay tuned!


	69. KATARA XV

KATARA

SHE DIDN'T KNOW HOW LONG SHE HAD BEEN BEFORE THE MIRROR; ALL SHE KNEW FOR SURE WAS THAT SHE WAS VERY THANKFUL AZULA HAD DECIDED TO HANG AROUND THE MANSION FOR A BIT. _Okay_, she admitted to herself, while she re-adjusted her hair for what felt like the thousandth time, _maybe I begged her. Maybe I grabbed her by the hands after her and Toph hauled in a very worn and happy-looking Korra and dragged her into my room. Maybe I'm a bundle of nerves and I can't stop biting my lip. Maybe I'm being completely, unfathomably stupid._

_ And maybe_, she finished thinking with a smile, _I don't give a single damn._

"So," she said, turning her head side-to-side to get as good a view as possible in the mirror, "how do I look? Do you think Zuko will like it?"

Azula blinked, looking equal parts lost, bored, and out-of-sorts. She was sitting on an edge of the vanity, smoking away, attempting to cast what she seemed to hope was a discerning eye over the proceedings. "Um…_I think so? _Come on, Katara, this is my brother we're talking about. He's a massive dork and he's head-over-heels for you. You could come out looking like you just rolled out of bed, and he'd still swoon."

Over in his corner, where he had been leaned back in a chair, feet propped up on Katara's bed, Sokka let out a groan. "That's what I said!"

Katara shot him a look through the mirror. "Hush, you; this is _Girl Talk. _You don't get a say."

Azula, to her glee, mirrored her look. "As inexperienced as I am in these kinds of things, I'm with Katara here. Boys don't really get a voice in such matters."

Katara turned on Azula with a smile. "Thank you! It's nice to have someone who gets these things."

"_Great_," Sokka sighed, returning his attention to the ceiling, "now there's _two of you._"

Azula crossed her arms, an offended frown on her face. "_Excuse me? _Just what the hell is _that _supposed to mean?"

Sokka raised his hands in surrender. "Nothing. I give up. You guys win. I'll shut the fuck up now."

"That's what you said _two hours ago_," Katara pointed out, leaning close to the mirror to re-examine the way she had settled her hair behind her ears.

"In my defense," Sokka replied, "I wasn't aware that this process was still going to be playing out at this point."

"That," Katara said, frowning, "makes not the _least _bit of sense."

"That's how you know it's brilliant," Sokka said, looking smug.

Azula turned to Katara, crooking a thumb in Sokka's direction. "Is he always this stupid, or is he is just putting on a show?"

Katara laughed. "No, he's always this stupid. It's just how he rolls."

"Hey! I heard that!"

"No one's talking to you, idiot," Azula shot back.

"Right?" Katara observed, pulling out some hairs and very carefully beginning to slide them precisely back into a position that even she couldn't see the difference in. "It's like he doesn't even understand plain Inuktitut or something."

"Well, _in his defense_," Azula said, in a sing-song imitation of Sokka, "he's only spoken it all his life."

Katara giggled. "What can I do?"

"I dunno…insult him some more?"

"There's the ticket!"

With that, Sokka rose to his feet, hands still raised in surrender. "Alright, alright, _fine_, I see when I'm not wanted. I'll show myself the door."

"I'm pretty sure that's what we've been telling you for two hours now," Azula pointed out. "Seriously, Katara, I'm beginning to worry about your brother's mental health."

Katara shrugged. "Hey, he's a doof, but he's my brother. Like I said, what can I do?"

"Draw a diagram?"

"Maybe if I put it in a song…"

"Ooh! I've got it! We'll make it into a kid's pop-up book!"

"That won't work unless there's boobs in it."

"I'm pretty sure that can be arranged. After all, I _am _a princess."

"Hmm…I hadn't considered that before. Think you can swing a royal edict outlining to him when he is and isn't wanted?"

"In the form of the aforementioned pop-up book?"

"With the tits."

Azula snapped her fingers. "Right! Can't forget about the tits."

"I said I was going!" Sokka shouted.

"And yet," Azula replied, in a dry tone of voice that Katara instantly wanted to learn how to use, "you're still here."

"She does have a point, Sokka," Katara added.

"I'm gone!" And, to his credit, he was.

"Seriously, though," Azula said, returning her attention to Katara, "and I know that this is going to be completely unhelpful, and you totally know this, but you really don't have to try this hard. My brother is _easily _as goofy as yours is. _Trust me_."

"Yeah, I know," Katara sighed, doing her best to pretend that her heart wasn't doing flutters in her chest, "but still, this is our first, like, _real date_, and I want it to be absolutely perfect. I mean, who knows when we'll be able to have another one?" She sat back, shoving her hands under her thighs, since that was the only way she could be sure that they wouldn't find their way back into her hair. "I just want to make sure I compare to all the high-born ladies back home."

Azula shot her a look that Katara couldn't even _begin _to comprehend. "You don't compare at all. That's the point; that's why he likes you."

Katara turned her eyes to Azula, and did her absolute best not to look like a puppy pleading for a belly rub. She really did. _Honest. _"Because I'm better?"

Azula rolled her eyes. "Sure, we'll go with that. Totally not the point, _like I said_, but yeah, we'll go with better."

Katara huffed, and did nothing to restrain her feelings of disappointment. "You're really not very good at this."

To her surprise, Azula suddenly shifted from her usual _flippant competence _to…well…_flustered. _"Yeah, well…like I said, I don't really have much experience with these sorts of things."

"Really? Don't royalty go on dates?"

A shrug, one that Katara couldn't quite identify. "_Not really? _I'd say we more have…I dunno…_chaperoned outings _and things of that nature. I did my best to break out and do whatever the hell I wanted, whenever the hell I wanted to do it, and even I've never been on what one could call a _date._"

Something clicked in Katara's mind, and her heart fell into her feet. "Wait…you mean that…it's more than possible that…_this is the first date Zuko's ever been on?_"

Azula gave her an encouraging smile. "Um…_probably? _Heh…uh…" She ran her hands through her hair, and looked _very _uncomfortable. "Like I said…it's not really something we…well…_do. _So…hey!" Her smile widened, and she gave Katara two thumbs up. "Less competition, right?"

_Wrong. __**GAH! **_"Oh…gods…I hadn't even thought…" She stood, and looked long and hard at herself in the mirror. "That's…_ah!_" She came very close to shrieking, and dived into the wardrobe that Jiayi had so thoughtfully filled with dresses. "This dress will just _not _do."

"I promise that it will!" Azula offered.

"No. It _won't_."

Azula sighed, stubbed out her cigarette, and lit a new one. "This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

"Yes," Katara said, voice filled with determination, "it is." And thus Katara plunged into her borrowed dresses, tossing them hither and yon, while her heart raced and her hands shook and she felt far more terrified than she had when she had faced down the Spirit of the Ocean, demanded that it release the girl she thought of as her daughter, and made it blink.

* * *

Ah, there's nothing quite like that first date with someone you really like. My wife totally doesn't know this, but on our first _legit date, _my hands were sweating the whole drive to the movie theater. I was so flustered I actually did the _pretend to yawn, put my arm around her _thing. _Seriously. _And I was, like, twenty-three-goddamn-years-old. _And it wasn't even my first date. _

*sigh* Sorry, I get all gooey when I write good fluff. Also, yay for Azula/Katara bonding! Woo!

Enough about that. In the next chapter, we see Zuko get ready, and act like a dork. Stay tuned!


	70. ZUKO XVII

ZUKO

"ALRIGHT, HOW DO I LOOK?"

For a moment, there was no response, and Zuko just about died of fear right then and there. It was hard to explain how he felt. The thing was, for all that he had once been a prince and was now a solider, _he had never really been on an actual date. _And now, he stood before a few of his best friends in the world, and they were saying _not a word._

It was Ryu's night to be on duty, but that still left Toru, Tsurukawa, and Yukawa clustered in his doorway, looking on, commenting loudly and obscenely on his preparations. He had spared nothing. He had shined his boots and his sword belt, rebound the hilt of his _katana_, polished his buttons, brushed out his uniform. The only thing he hadn't done was to gussy up his decorations, because he wasn't wearing them, no matter how much Sergeant Toshio thought he should. He stood before his friends, after uncounted hours of preparation (both physical and, through the course of a day he barely remembered, mental), and they _weren't saying a word._

Finally, it was Tsurukawa who broke the spell. He sighed, shook his head, and said, "Dude, you look fucking delicious. If I liked dudes, I'd totally hit that."

Zuko flipped him the bird and turned to Yukawa. "Well, Yuk, what do you think?"

Yukawa shrugged and nodded, which was the equivalent to shouting what Tsurukawa had said. Zuko felt a strange surge of pride at the display. It was very hard not to leap out and hug the man.

Finally he turned to Toru. This was the opinion he really wanted, this the opinion that really mattered. Toru was his best friend, the best friend he had ever had, the best friend any human being could ever hope for. His buddy, through thick and thin, the man he wanted beside him when the arrows and the rocks and the boulders started flying, his comrade-in-arms. He spread his arms, and said, "Well, Toru? Whatcha got for me?"

Toru looked him up and down, a strange glint in the corners of his eyes that Zuko had never quite been able to decipher, and said, in a tone of voice Zuko couldn't quite identify, "Your topknot is crooked."

Zuko's hands instantly flew up to his hair. "What? No, it's not. I just checked it. It's _fine._"

Toru rolled his eyes. "Your topknot is _always _crooked, Zuk. It always tilts to the left."

Zuko rounded on Tsurukawa. "This isn't true…_right…?_"

Tsurukawa sighed. "Dude, as much as I hate to admit that I've spent enough time around you, staring at your hair, to notice…_yeah_, it totally is. It's really annoying sometimes."

"Well, fuck you, too. Yuk?"

Yukawa grunted and made a vague gesture with his hands, and Zuko's heart sank.

"Ugh. _Fine._" He turned to the mirror, and began undoing his topknot. Before he quite knew what was happening, Toru was beside him, swatting his hands away.

"Look, Zuko, this has been driving me crazy since I met you. Let me do it for once." And, with deft movements, Toru untied Zuko's topknot, gathered the hair in his hands, and quickly and efficiently tied it back into place. Zuko looked at the results, and could only nod in satisfaction.

He turned to Toru. "Just how much time have you spent wanting to do that?"

Toru gave a very vague shrug and an even more vague wave of his hands. "Look, I've known you for a long time, okay? And for every day, for nearly eight years, your gods-damn topknot has leaned like a drunken sailor on shore leave. I've noticed, okay?"

Zuko reached up and patted the topknot in question. "Still…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Zuk," Tsurukawa groaned, rolling his eyes, "I've only fucking known you, what, three gods-damn years? And even _I've _spent time out of my gods-damn fucking short lifespan wanting to reach up and fix that stupid fucking topknot. It's absurd."

Zuko looked down and shuffled his feet, feeling very much like a little kid. "The Captain never noticed…"

"Like the Captain gives a shit?" Tsurukawa pointed out. "You're the best gods-damn officer in the fucking piece-of-shit Regiment. Like he gives a crane-fish's flying ass that your topknot is never standing at perfect fucking attention. Just accept what your gods-damn fucking friends have to say about it."

"You know," Toru said, turning to Tsurukawa, "if I had a _yen _for every time I heard you say _fuck_…"

Tsurukawa flipped him the bird. "Yeah, kiss my ass. We done here?"

"What," Zuko asked, spreading his hands once more, "no well wishes? No advice? No sex moves you personally recommend?"

"The poor girl's going on a fucking date with you, asshat," Tsurukawa observed, examining his nails. "Obviously, you're throwing the exact right manner of dick into her, and don't need any gods-damn advice from me. Everyone ready?"

Yukawa shrugged and grunted. Toru smiled and shot Zuko a double thumbs-up. Zuko rubbed the back of his neck. Tsurukawa nodded and smiled. "Right then." He reached out and clapped Zuko on the shoulder. "Seriously, dude, good fucking luck. Try not to say anything stupid."

_Well, __**that's **__reassuring. I'm Zuko. Saying stupid shit is…kind of my thing. _"Um," Zuko said, still rubbing the back of his neck and rolling his tongue around a suddenly very dry mouth, "…thanks?"

"Don't mention it." And with that, Tsurukawa was off.

Yukawa was gone not long after, leaving only Zuko and his best friend. They regarded each other for a moment, and then enveloped each other in very manly embraces. They slapped each other's backs and tried to ruffle each other's hair and air-boxed for a few moments, before, finally, Toru stepped away, shaking his head in wonder. "Seriously, Zuk, you look like a million _yen_."

Zuko couldn't help but smile and feel like a fool. "You really think so?"

Toru reached out and socked him one in the arm. "I really do. She's a lucky girl." Something happened then, something Zuko didn't quite understand. It was like…like…_like…_ but then it was gone, and Toru was socking him in the other arm and chuckling to himself. "I mean it. Knock her dead."

"I don't think that's the goal of the evening…" Zuko offered, still not quite recovered from Katara's harrowing recounting of the North from the day before.

"You know what I mean, asshole," Toru replied, rolling his eyes to the heavens, as if beseeching them for strength, something Zuko couldn't help but think was a standard reaction amongst those who had to deal with him on a daily basis. "Just…have fun, okay? Tsurukawa and I will be at that pub we told you about, knocking back drinks, if you strike out."

Zuko felt a twinge of unease. "You really think that's a possibility…?"

Toru threw back his head and laughed. "After the way I've seen you two look at each other? _Fuck no_. But that pub has rooms for rent by the night upstairs, and something tells me that girl can hold her _sake. _So, you know, bring her by, and don't worry about grossing us out."

Zuko chuckled. "What, so you guys can tease me all night and force me to translate embarrassing stories?"

"What, like the time you set your pants on fire at the Academy? Trust me, I've been practicing my Guangzhou just so I can tell that story all on my own, don't worry."

"_Joy_."

"Seriously, man, have fun. Just…be yourself."

_Heh…easier said than done. _"Shouldn't I try to _not _be that?"

Toru slapped his hands to his face and growled. "For fuck's sake…you need help, you know that?"

Zuko tried on a confidant smile. "Haven't you been telling me that since we met?"

"And yet, you have _yet _to listen."

"No wonder you and my sister got along."

Toru shrugged. "Hey, we have a lot of the same struggles to commiserate about." He grabbed Zuko by the shoulders and began pushing him out the door. "But enough of that crap. Get out there and own it, man."

"Alright, alright," Zuko said, as Toru steered him down the hall and shoved him out into the night, "I'm going, I'm going…"

"Damn straight you are. And try to smile!"

Zuko could only laugh. _Like __**that's **__ever a problem when Katara's around…_

He spent the entire walk to the mansion, head in the clouds, thinking about just how much that thought said about just how far he had come.

* * *

For those playing the home game, if there's anything that drives my wife crazy, is the fact that, every time I tie a tie around my neck (which, when I'm working is often), it always, always, _always _tilts to the left. Drives her insane. As in, when she goes to work before I do, and thus, isn't there to fix it, she obsesses about it. Her and my mom commiserate about it. It's pretty funny.

I'm pretty sure I work that detail into all my stories. _I need help._

Anyways...moving on! In the next chapter, Azula sneaks out, but not before Katara gives her a talking-to. Stay tuned!


	71. AZULA III

AZULA

KATARA CAUGHT HER JUST AS SHE WAS PERCHED ON THE WINDOWSILL, PREPARING TO LEAP OUT. Somehow, this surprised Azula not in the least.

"Um…mind if I ask where you're going?"

Azula sighed. _Where am I going? What am I doing? What am I running away from? _They were all good questions; the fact that she had answers for them all, solid answers, too, did not make them easier to confront. _If anything, it makes it harder._

_ But I didn't get where I am by dodging the hard questions._

Azula turned around, settling herself on the windowsill, feet dangling on the inside. She began kicking her feet back and forth, watching her shoes duck around in the darkness, the light catching and rippling across the dirt and the mud that was caked on the toes. She didn't look up, because she couldn't. If she did, her resolve would break, snap, fade away like it had never been there. She would bend and submit to every request, to every insane little plan that the girl she liked more and more, the girl she now felt was just absolutely _perfect _for her brother, had been trying so hard to hide, all through the evening.

_Because she's right; I'm not wrong, but that doesn't make her any less right._

"Look, Katara…"

Katara cut her off with a slash of her hand. Azula didn't have to look up to see the motion.

"Stop right there. I'm going to make this very simple for you: Just give me one good reason why I shouldn't drag you downstairs with me to see your brother for the first time in four years."

Azula laughed, deep and low in the back of her throat. _No wonder he likes her. Strong, brave, forceful, stubborn, a bit too smart for her own good? Just his type. _

"Because…" She paused, gathered her breath, gathered her strength. "Because…this is your night. If I go down there, it won't be your night anymore, and you're right: When will you have a chance for a night like this again? I'm not going to ruin that for you, and I'm definitely not going to ruin it for him."

Katara huffed, and Azula somehow knew she was rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"You really think you'd ruin things? You know how much he talks about you? You know how much _you _talk about _him? _You guys need this."

Azula did. It was all she wanted, everything she had betrayed her country and her family and her heritage and everything she'd been raised to hold dear for.

_But that changed nothing._

"You know who Tokugawa Meiji was?"

A pause. "The founder of your dynasty?"

_Heh…in a nutshell, I guess. _"Long story short? Yes. Anyways, legend has it that, one day, he went to a performance of the best musician in the Fire Nation, hell, in the _world_, some said. He sat down, listened, and then, ten minutes in, got up and left. His courtiers ran after him, asked, _My lord, did you not like the performance? We shall strike off the man's head for insulting you._ And Meiji shook his head, and, with tears in his eyes, said, _No, it was beautiful, sublime, so wonderful that, if I listened, I'd never finish what I need to do._" Finally, she looked up, and saw comprehension spilling across Katara's face. "You know what I'm saying?"

Katara nodded, slow and sure. "If you see your brother now, you'll stop and never finish going where you need to go."

Azula smiled, and wondered how that smile looked. She'd never watched herself smile, out of fear that it would be some horrid, twisted thing, because no one had ever really bothered to teach her how. She knew how to cry, how to hate, how to see through her brother's fake smiles as he held her close and read her stories to drown out the sound of their father's drunken rages…but how to smile?

_No one ever covered that._

"How could I? It's all I really want. But long ago, I promised that I would never cry again, not until the day I have him back, and never have to say goodbye again."

Katara bowed her head. "And if you saw him now…"

"Eventually, in a week's time, I'll have to say goodbye. And I swore to myself: _Never again_. So I can't, not now, not tonight." An impulse seized her, and before she knew it, she had leaped up, run to Katara, thrown her arms around her. She held her tight, and Katara held her right back, and they hugged like two sisters, and Azula felt the closest to peace she had been in four years.

"Get out of here," Katara said, smiling through her sadness, "before I change my mind and freeze your feet to the floor."

Azula pulled away, and pretended that she had something in her eyes. "You'd do it, too."

"Gods-damn right I would."

Azula shook her head and tore herself away. "One of these days, I'm going to stand witness to your wedding. You're going to marry my brother and I'm going to cry like a baby."

Katara rolled her eyes. "Stop indulging my most shameful fantasies and go, you moron." She wiped her eyes and laughed. "You're as bad as your brother, I swear."

Azula shrugged. "What can I say? I come by it honestly." Then she was out the window, and off into the night, vanishing into the darkness like she'd never even been there.

* * *

The story about Tokugawa Meiji is actually an adaptation of a story about Vladimir Lenin. Legend has it that, one day, he was listening to Mozart, burst into tears, and left. When asked why, he said, _If I don't stop listening, I'll never finish the revolution. _I'm sure a lot of Russians wish that had been true.

But I digress. Bonding! Fluff! My long-time readers wondering when the sucker-punch will arrive! *innocent smile*

But enough of that. I have big news: Today, I finished writing _Romance of the Four Nations, Book 1. _Of course, you guys won't be reading it all today (it's Friday, and I have a life), but, it's here, on my hard-drive (and saved various other places, too, because I cover my bases). That's pretty fucking exciting, isn't it?

And trust me: It. Is. _Good. _One of the best things I've ever written. I'm pretty fucking stoked about sharing it, though not as stoked as I am about getting to work on Book 2.

:-D

That will probably be it for today. I threw up five solid chapters of fluff, which I think is a good way to end the week, you know? So, let me know what you think, you know, _r&amp;r _and all that jazz. I'm off to enjoy a solid Friday night!

That said, in the next chapter, everyone's favorite lackey gives everyone's least favorite prince one last chance to back out. Stay tuned!


	72. THE CROWN PRINCE III

THE CROWN PRINCE

THE BALL HAD BEEN EXACTLY AS TEDIOUS AS HE HAD EXPECTED. All of the dignitaries, administrators, nobility, and top military brass that Omashu had to offer had been there. There had been fine food and fine drink and nauseating conversation to wash it all down. Fathers had thrust daughters at him, uniformed staff officers had subtly examined their fingernails while their generals kowtowed, and, at one point, Yoshihito was pretty sure that if the Viceroy of the Southern Region had sucked up to him any more, the man would've started shining the Crown Prince's shoes with his tongue. For a moment, Yoshihito actually considered propping his feet up on the table and asking him to do it. He was fairly sure that the man, who was well known to be angling for a high posting back in the Homeland, wouldn't have even hesitated.

Alas, even that possibility had left Yoshihito feeling bored and listless, and, in the end, the ball had wound down to its inevitable conclusion and the Crown Prince had belched, announced his pleasure with the proceedings, and begun the process of staggering back to his rooms.

It took him a long time to realize that he wasn't alone, and even longer to realize why. At first, he had assumed that the Viceroy, thick as he was, had finally gotten his not-so-subtle hints and had a few girls sent to his rooms. But then whoever it was cleared their throat, and Yoshihito didn't have to be genius to figure out that it was a very masculine sound. Thus, it was with a sinking heart and not a little bit of fear that he slowly turned from the vanity, where he had just laid his Crown Prince's headpiece on a velvet pillow, and faced the only spot of darkness in the room.

Silence fell, tension building within Yoshihito until he felt like he would snap. Sweat began to bead on his brow, and as his vision swam, he regretted – possibly for the first time in his life – drinking as much as he had. He swallowed, hard, and his mouth was like sandpaper, his tongue scraping around like a thousand little knifepoints. He reached up to pat his hair, and noticed that his hand was shaking. He felt very naked, and very exposed, and wondered if he was sober enough to defend himself, or brave enough to call out to his guards without his voice quaking in fear.

Then, a match struck in the pocket of darkness, there in the corner. It flared to life, a comet streaking across the night sky as it arced up to find a cigarette. The man there puffed, once, twice, thrice, his face lit up by the flash of fire. The match was shaken out, and the face plunged back into darkness.

Yoshihito recognized the man instantly. Somehow, he didn't feel the least bit reassured.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, desperately searching within himself to find enough anger to blot out the memory of his fear. "For Agni's sake, Kojima, was all that necessary?"

There was no answer, not for what felt like a long time. Kojima puffed away, as if he had all the time in the world, and Yoshihito couldn't think of a single thing to say that would stop him. He found his mind wandering in the quiet, back six years, to the day his father set Kojima in watch over him. Yoshihito had recognized the sort of man he was instantly, seen him as that particular species of snake who exists for the sole purpose of getting things done and keeping the hands of his betters clean. Yoshihito had smiled on that day. He had felt that being given the man was an honor, a recognition that he was well and truly a prince, for only princes have the need for such men. It was like his father was saying, _You're to be Fire Lord someday, my son, and there are certain things a Fire Lord must never do themselves. _

He had felt on top of the world that day, his sense of power and importance validated by mastery and control over a man who would do anything and everything he could possibly think of, cater to every whim, fulfill every request. Now, though?

_Yoshihito wasn't quite sure how he felt anymore._

_ Or maybe that's just the sake talking, _a voice that sounded like his father's said. He frowned, and shook the voice away, and after letting the shivering world settle back into place, crossed his arms and tried to look imperious.

If the man he knew as Kojima was affected by this display, he didn't show it. Instead, the man finally stood, stepped into the candlelight, and gave a perfectly correct bow. "My lord."

Yoshihito instantly felt better. He was back on solid ground, being shown deference and what he thought of as respect. He drew himself up, balling his hands into fists, and wiped his mind clean of the memory of fear and trembling. "You haven't answered my question, Kojima," he growled, and smiled at the sound of power that he thought he heard in his voice.

Kojima quirked up an eyebrow, and gestured vaguely at the door. "Well, my lord, if you would rather I go the front door of the Viceroy's mansion and present myself to the guards, fully stating my business and requesting an audience, by all means, I can do that."

The fear came back; it flashed, white hot and searing, in his brain. His father loomed over him, suspicion in his eyes, as he asked, in the voice of a king, the voice he had never used on his son, _Your cousin is dead. What do you know about this? _And in his hands, Yoshihito saw testimonies, and statements, and the words of a Viceroy finally getting his big break.

"That," Yoshihito said, voice trembling to break from his wine-sodden control, "is not necessary, Kojima." His mind fumbled for words, finding none that mattered, even by his low standards, before finally latching on to the only thing he could think to ask. "Why are you here?" He gave himself a shake, and stepped away from the light, where his red and sweat-soaked face would, he hoped, not show. "Explain yourself!"

Kojima bowed, perfectly correct, perfectly solemn, as always. "To make my report, of course."

Yoshihito felt a surge of anger, and thanked the gods for it; it gave him a sense of control. "You came all the way here, risked your mission, just to tell me something I don't need to be told until it's over? How _dare _you put me at risk like that!"

The expression that came over Kojima's face looked a lot like amusement, but Yoshihito couldn't be sure; he just didn't know enough about human emotions to make that kind of call. "I felt, my lord, considering the gravity of what you've tasked me to do, that I should give you one last chance to call it off."

Yoshihito couldn't help but scoff. "Have all the preparations been made?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Is everything in place?"

"Of course, my lord."

"Will I have complete deniability?"

Kojima shrugged. "The individual I tasked with being my local liaison will, I have no doubt, require regular payments for life, but as long as the gold keeps coming, they'll stay quiet. You have nothing to fear."

"Wait…" Yoshihito tried to grasp what was going on, but the details just kept slipping through his fingers. "You mean…they'll blackmail me?"

"Most certainly, my lord. That's what makes them trustworthy."

"I…that makes no sense."

"These things rarely do, my lord, but such is life. Trust me, this individual is _far _too useful to simply kill once the job is done. Tools work best when they are maintained, rather than thrown away."

Yoshihito pulled over a chair and slumped down, holding his head in one hand while he waved the observation away with the other. "Whatever. Point is, everything's ready?"

"In about a week's time, the imagined threat to my lord's succession will be freed from his mortal coil. Of that, you may be assured. I intend to deliver the final blow myself."

Yoshihito sighed in relief. "Well, that's good. Still…I'm still confused. Why would I call it all off? You know how much this has cost me?"

This time, he was fairly certain that Kojima looked amused. "More than you do, my lord."

Yoshihito couldn't argue with that, not that he would want to. Finances had always been a mystery to him. His father was the kind of Fire Lord who poured over Treasury accounts every day over breakfast, and was known to personally audit the reports his chief advisors sent him. Yoshihito, on the other hand, has always felt that such matters were beneath his dignity. After all, what was the point of having subordinates if one was constantly having to check their work? Better to let the men in charge of such things do what they were paid to do.

"Well, fine, then. What's the problem?"

Kojima bowed once more, and when he rose, his face was deadly serious in a way that struck the Crown Prince mute.

"Because, my lord, as your chief advisor in such things, and the man tasked by your father with making sure you had all the facts at your fingertips at all times, it is my duty to inform you that I believe you are making a terrible mistake."

Yoshihito could think of nothing else to do but scoff, as only a prince could. "What mistake could I _possibly _be making? The only mistake I've made with regards to Zuko is not doing this before now."

Kojima shook his head, first one way, then the other. "I must humbly disagree. Should this mission succeed, the Princess Azula would not rest until your head rests in her lap, and I believe she has the strength of will to make it happen."

Yoshihito laughed, long and hard. "_Please. _Even if she was capable of what you say she is, how could she possibly know that I was responsible for it?"

"She's an extremely intelligent young woman, my lord. She'll figure it out."

Yoshihito scoffed the observation away. "Whatever, she's still a girl. And besides, what do you mean _if it succeeds? _Since when have you ever failed?"

Kojima shrugged. "One must always be prepared for failure, my lord."

Yoshihito felt rage bubbling up from within, and he welcomed it with open arms. "Princes do not fail, Kojima. I'd like you to remember that."

"Be that as it may," Kojima replied, tossing his cigarette to the floor and stubbing it out with the toe of his boot, "_should it fail_, my lord will have gained an enemy whose abilities I do not think he fully comprehends, which doesn't even cover the allies who are likely to flock to his side."

Yoshihito shrugged, turning to the vanity, opening and rummaging around drawers on a wild hunt for his opium pipe. "Whatever. None of this will be problem when that one-eyed little fool is dead, _which he will be_, because I'm counting on you to make it happen, and woe unto you if you fail me." He reached the final drawer, and could no longer think of where else the pipe might have gone. _I put it right in here just this morning… _"Kojima, where's my pipe?"

"I threw it out the window," came the instant reply. "I needed you clear-headed and full cognizant before I asked you to make this decision."

That did it. Yoshihito snarled, lurching to his feet, all fear forgotten. He stormed to Kojima, and screamed, his rage grating out of his throat like a dull knife.

"Now, you listen to me, _Kojima. _You are not the boss of me. _I _am the boss of _you_, and it's high time that you _remembered that! _Now, _for the last gods-damn time, _I gave you an order, and I expect you to carry it out. So, get out there, get it done, and _don't come back until it's finished, __**do you understand me?!**_"

For a long time, Kojima didn't say a word. He didn't even blink. He merely stared, right into the Crown Prince's eyes, right into his very _soul _(_or so Yoshihito felt_). When he seemed to grow bored of that, the man sighed, shrugged, and stepped back to give a deep bow. He rose, and when he did, Yoshihito noticed that, somehow, his face had become shrouded in shadow once more.

"As my lord commands."

The Crown Prince blinked, unable to comprehend what had just happened, and Kojima was gone, as if he'd never been there.

A knock came at the door. Cursing under his breath in a very un-royal fashion, Yoshihito staggered over, the effects of the evening's drink returning full force. He flung open the doors, and there before him stood his guards, bowing low as one of them said, "Sorry to disturb, Your Highness, but we heard shouting. Is everything alright?"

Yoshihito blinked in the bright light of the hallway, and considered his response. There seemed only one thing to say.

"No, everything is _not _alright. Get me opium, a pipe, a few more bottles of _sake_, and some girls."

The men remained bowed as they replied. "How many girls, Your Highness?"

Yoshihito shrugged, already done with this. "Like I care. Just be quick about it." He slammed the door before a reply could come, and headed off to the bathroom, where he sat and waited until his servants returned, his orders promptly and fully fulfilled.

_That's more like it_.

* * *

Lady Kaelyn, you once made an observation that, every time you read something involving Yoshihito, you want to poke him in the eye. I wholeheartedly agree.

My wife and I actually spent some time over drinks last night, hashing out exactly what Yoshihito's problem is. At the end of the day, we came to the conclusion that he is, quite simply, a spoiled brat, who has lucked into the power to execute. In my mind, his father was away a lot when he was growing up, fighting battles, waging campaigns, doing _heir to the throne _crap, which left Yoshihito and his two sisters (who will pop up at some point in the near-to-distant future) in the care of their mother, who, feeling lonely and neglected, latched on to and spoiled them.

This happens often enough in real life for me to feel like I'm not stretching.

But enough about that. You're getting updates on a Saturday! Woo!

In the next chapter, seven o'clock arrives, and our favorite banished prince picks up our favorite waterbender. Stay tuned!


	73. SEVEN O'CLOCK

SEVEN O'CLOCK

LIKE THE GOOD SOLDIER HE WAS, ZUKO ARRIVED PRECISELY ON TIME, AND WAS GREETED BY A PECULIAR SIGHT. There, perched on the steps leading up to the front doors, sat Sokka, slowly and carefully scrapping a whetstone along what looked like a _jian-_type sword laid carefully across his knees. He had his wolf-tail perfectly arranged, and Zuko couldn't help but notice with envy that it was not in the least bit crooked. He sighed, shaking his head as he took the scene in. It really was perfect; Sokka had even taken the time to put on a tunic that left his arms exposed, and was clearly flexing the muscles therein.

"This is because I didn't get you that knife to threaten me with the other day, isn't it?"

Sokka shrugged, stopping his sharpening to hold the sword up so that the flickering torchlight rippled across the steel. "I don't know what you're talking about; I'm just sitting here, sharpening my sword."

Zuko quirked an eyebrow. "Is that even your sword?"

Sokka turned the sword over, and began working on the other side. "I don't imagine that that's a question you'll be asking when I use it to remove your manhood."

Zuko laughed; there didn't seem to be anything else to do. "I'll be sure to tell your sister you said that."

For the briefest of moments, the sharpening stopped. Sokka froze, in a perfect still life, and a soft shudder surged through his body. Then, as if nothing had happened, he went right back to sharpening. "I'd really rather you didn't do that."

"Hey, you're not the one being casually threatened with bodily harm," Zuko pointed out.

Sokka nodded. "True, true…still, I thought we were friends."

"Friends don't threaten to remove each other's manhoods."

Sokka pursed his lips in thought at that. "Good point…_heh…_still," he stood, and gathered his things together, "I think my point has been made. No reason to drag my sister into this."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

Sokka threw him a thumbs-up. "You're a pal, Zuko." With that, he gave what he hoped was a light-hearted, funny little bow, and disappeared into the mansion before Zuko could come up with a response.

He found his sister pretty much where he expected her to be, leaning into a mirror in a hallway, having expertly placed herself in a spot where she could see the front door, but anyone standing by said front door could not see her. He crouched down, checked for any potential passersby, and began the slow, steady process of sneaking up on her.

On that night, of all nights, she saw him coming a mile away. She rounded on him, arms spread, and he noticed, out of the edges of his vision, water begin to rise from several scattered flower-vases. There was anger in her eyes, which contrasted nicely with the nervous paleness of her face. He put on his most innocent smile, spread his own arms as if he was just going to give her a brotherly hug, _honest_, and said, "Hey, sis! All ready for your big night?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You didn't sit out there sharpening that sword, waiting for Zuko, did you?"

He laughed, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, and, still looking the perfect picture of innocence, said, in a light-hearted voice, "Who, _me?"_

Her eyes narrowed even more. "Yes, _you_. Because," and here, she dropped her arms, and the threatening spouts of water slipped back into their vases, and she went back to examining her teeth, "here's the thing, if you _did _do that, it would be tantamount to saying that Zuko can't be trusted, _which we know full well isn't the case_, and, on top of that, you would basically be shouting out to the world that you don't think I can take care of myself, and that would be ridiculous, because no _way _could you _possibly _think something as silly as _that_, now, could you?"

"Heh…uh…"He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his feet and looking around for an exit that wouldn't require him to pass even the smallest body of water. "Yeah, that would be…just…_ridiculous_, you know? I mean, I'd _never _do something like _that_! You're totally right! You're always right! I mean, you're Katara, and if someone is going to be right, why, that's totally you!"

She smiled into the mirror. "Well, it's nice to hear you say that. Though, I'm curious what Zuko would have to say if I asked him what you were up to…"

For a moment, Sokka so fervently believed in the solidarity of all _dudes_, and had so much faith that his categorization of one Lieutenant Tokugawa Zuko as a _really good dude_, that he almost gave a nonchalant shrug and fired off a flippant answer. Then he took a good look at his sister, and thought of the way Zuko's eyes (even the dead one) glazed over whenever she so much as came up in conversation, and decided that discretion was the better part of valor. "Well, as a matter of fact…hey! Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I'm pretty sure Lobsang's calling me. I better go…um…_find him_, you know…see what he wants. Probably something to do with Korra, you know? Um…_have fun!_" And with that, he beat a hasty retreat, leaving his sister alone with his mirror.

Katara didn't really notice his exit, just as she hadn't been fully aware of his arrival. She focused all of her attention on her image in the mirror, giving herself a long, hard, appraising stare. She ran through a litany in her head, reeling off all her accomplishments, everything she had done, everything she had seen, everything she had faced. She thought of her ancestors, of her father, descended from a long line of chiefs, a proud warrior of a proud race of a proud heritage. She thought of her mother, descended through her mother from a long line of Northern nobility, widely reputed to be the most skilled and powerful waterbender among all the Southern Water Tribes. She even thought of her grandmother, the woman who, when she grew tired of restraint, had traveled across a war-torn world in the hopes of finding something better, and when she found it, taught herself how to read and write and made what she wanted to happen, _happen._

None of that changed the fact that she didn't like a single thing she saw in the mirror. Nothing looked right. Her hair didn't look right, her dress didn't look right, her arms, her teeth, her lips, her eyes, _none of it_. She would've laughed at the idea that she could be so nervous before a date with a man she'd already been intimate with, if she hadn't been so busy being…well…_nervous. _

Then a servant appeared, and bowed, and announced that her _gentleman caller _had arrived, and was waiting in the atrium, and she forgot everything so completely that it even slipped her mind that she was still a bundle of raw nerves.

Down in the atrium, Zuko stood, feeling very exposed. He couldn't stop shifting his weight from foot-to-foot, tugging at his collar, clearing his throat. He found himself contemplating a bizarre waking nightmare, wherein someone randomly handed him a baby, and his sweaty palms promptly dropped said baby, and the baby splattered all over the floor, and the evening was ruined and he would be drummed out of the Army for _baby murder _and Katara would never speak to him again and somehow that seemed the worst possible outcome, the idea of her never speaking to him again, and he felt appropriately horrified that he wasn't horrified at all that he was thinking that, none of which made sense, but then again-

He heard a soft clearing of a throat. He turned, and there she was, gliding across the floor towards him, and he forgot all about it.

When Zuko had been eleven and his sister nine, he had woken her up in the middle of the night and, together, they had slipped out to an isolated beach they had found while exploring Ember Island. There, they sat on a rock, and watched the sunrise over the sea, and Azula had cried because it was so beautiful.

When Zuko was sixteen, on an all-night hike through the hills around Shu Jing, he and Toru had broken away from the class and walked to the lip of the valley and watched the dawn turn the Academy complex below into a glittering beacon of gold.

When Zuko was nineteen, in the depths of winter, he had stopped on the side of a mountain to look back over the Regiment, snaking up through a winter wonderland so white it was blinding, and he had cursed fate for leaving him with only one eye to try and comprehend it.

That night, when Zuko was twenty-two, all of that faded away, because that night, he saw the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. His breath hitched in his throat. He gulped, and bowed low, with a grace that he hadn't known he had in him. When he rose, he smiled, and said, "My lady, you look marvelous tonight."

Katara felt the blush creep across her face, and did nothing to fight it. She let it come, let it shine forth for all the world to see, because never, not once, in her entire life, had she felt so beautiful. She performed the dainty little curtsey that she had made Azula teach her not a few hours before, and smiled for all she was worth. "And you, my lord, look positively glorious."

He didn't have a clue what to say to that, not even bothering to wonder where she had learned the proper curtsey and the proper response. Instead, he turned, and offered the crook of his right arm. "Shall we?"

She moved to his side and slid her arm through his. "I've been waiting to hear those words all night."

Arm-in-arm, they moved to the door, where servants specially placed by a mischievous Lady Jiayi waited. In perfect unison, they opened the doors, bowing as the couple stepped out into the night.

Katara wanted to cry with join, as she finally acknowledged that, yes, it's quite nice to feel like a princess from time-to-time.

Zuko couldn't stop smiling, as, for the first time in his life, he truly felt like a prince.

* * *

I like fluff. Do you like fluff? I hope so. We're going to have some fluff.

As usual, I deny that this is all prep work for some later sucker punch. _I deny it._

And, yeah, I made Kya a waterbender. Just made sense to me in the context of this AU.

The waking nightmare bit that Zuko suffers is something that actually happens to me when I'm nervous. It should come as no surprise that I have a very active imagination, and when I'm nervous or stressed (or both), my brain goes to some...well..._it goes to some really strange places._

But I digress. Moving on! In the next chapter, Lobsang chills with Korra and Sokka. Stay tuned!


	74. LOBSANG I

LOBSANG

HE HAD BEEN VERY SURPRISED AT THE INVITATION TO JOIN YOUNG SOKKA AND YOUNG KORRA UPON THE ROOF THAT NIGHT. Very surprised, but very pleased. Lobsang very much enjoyed the company of the young, now more than ever; he had never understood the instinctive distaste many his age had for those less advanced in years. Sure, the young were often brash, head-strong, and never considered the consequences of their actions as much as they should, but, as he often pointed out, _Weren't we all that way, once upon a time? _He liked being reminded of his youth, of his days of passion and feeling carefree, like the world was his for the taking, if only he could go out and embrace it.

And besides, his days had been filled far too much with conspiracy and seriousness of late, and even an old man needs a break every now and then.

They sat on what the youngsters considered to be the best spot on the estate, nay, in the _entire country_, as Sokka had pronounced, standing up and spreading his arms wide, spinning around as Korra clapped her hands and giggled. They perched by a particular skylight, and the entire affair had the air of an inside joke between the two Southerners. Lobsang did not pry; it was their business, after all, and, he had to admit, it was a marvelous spot from which to watch life unfold.

He maintained his silence for some time, while the others jabbered back and forth in their tribal dialect. He felt a marvelous sense of peace and quiet and calm. He puffed his pipe, slow and sure, eyes closed, the wind upon his face. For a moment, he could almost imagine that he was a novice once more, before he grew tired of monasteries and cloisters, before he threw off his habit and finally acknowledged that his kind, open spirit was not suited to the life of a monk. Back then, nothing had seemed more marvelous than the rock and granite of the Eastern Air Temple, nothing more sublime and beautiful than the endless chanting, nothing more exquisite or exciting as the short bursts of wisdom that were the _sutras _and the unfathomable knots of the _koans. _When he was a boy, it had seemed that he could spend endless hours, every day, crouched on the hard stone floors, debating obscure philosophical questions, and the first time he had been ushered into the presence of the eternally slumbering Avatar, he had almost wept for joy, not seeing the ravages that time and the wielding of a power unprepared for had wrought on what had once been a kind-hearted, bright-eyed, carefree young boy.

It was Korra who pulled him from his ruminations. Switching to standard Inuktitut, she turned to him and, an inquisitive look on her face, asked, "Lobsang, can I ask you a question?"

He shrugged off his thoughts like they were nothing more than a light blanket, and turned to her with his kindest smile on his face. "Of course you can, my dear," he replied in the same language, though his accent and grammar had always left him feeling a bit under-performing. "You can always ask me anything, anything at all."

Sokka chuckled, tossing his most recent cigarette off the roof. "One of these days, I'm going to discover the limits of that statement."

Lobsang laughed, light and easy. "So you keep threatening, young man, and yet, you have still to reach your goal."

Sokka leveled a finger at him. "Doesn't mean that I won't."

Lobsang's laugh settled into a soft chuckle. "If anyone can uncover such a secret, it would be you, my friend." He said it without irony, and meant every word, in the best possible way. He hoped they knew that. He hoped that they never saw anger or irritation in his words or his actions. He hoped, because he never felt those things, and it would break his heart if his young friends, of all people, ever saw him that way. Turning back to Korra, he said, "Now, I believe you had a question, young lady."

Korra brightened under his gaze, and he was glad to see it. "I do!" She took a moment, and Lobsang marveled at watching the gears turn in her head. "Do Air Nomads drink? I don't think I've ever actually seen you drink, so, is that just you, or a general rule?"

He nodded, pursing his lips in contemplation. "That's an excellent question, my dear. To answer your question, I must first ask one of my own: Do you mean Air Nomads, or monks and nuns?"

Sokka frowned. "There's a difference?"

"Well, _yeah_," Korra replied, giving him a look Lobsang recognized quite clearly from his own teenage years. "All monks and nuns are airbenders and Air Nomads, but not all Air Nomads and airbenders are monks and nuns. Not everyone is cut out for life in a monastery." She paused, and frowned at her words, before turning to bow her head to Lobsang. "No offense…"

Lobsang batted the apology aside. "None taken, I assure you! It's perfectly, true, and I should know; I'm one of those who ultimately proved unsuited for the life of quiet contemplation forced on us by the Fire Lords."

"So," Sokka asked, rubbing his chin, "your people weren't always so big on separating themselves from the world?"

Lobsang raised a finger. "Now, we're getting ahead of ourselves. All of your questions are good, but complex, and require multi-part answers."

"_Yeah_, Sokka," Korra said, sticking her tongue out at the boy, "give the guy a chance to answer."

"_Excuse me_, young lady? Do I need to bend you over my knee?"

Korra looked genuinely offended. "We don't do that in the Southern Water Tribes!"

He gave her a glare that Lobsang found hysterical in its _un-glare-like _qualities. "Ah, but we're not _in _the Southern Water Tribes, now, are we?"

Korra struck a pose. "Bring it."

Sokka laughed and shook his head. "You've officially spent too much time around my sister."

Lobsang chuckled. "Strange, considering that your sister often makes the same observation, only about you."

"She does have a point," Sokka admitted. "This much awesomeness, even by proxy, can be dangerous for such a young soul."

"More like she's worried about me being exposed to toxic levels of _dorkiness,_" Korra shot back.

"Now, now, my friends," Lobsang said, though he was rather enjoying the exchange, delighting to see how much good this sojourn in a peaceful (_as much as could be expected_) place had done for the young trio, "no cause for fighting. Besides, I believe you had questions!"

"And Sokka does love a good history lesson," Korra observed.

"You've got me there," Sokka admitted, taking a drink from the bottle of light beer he had brought with him. "But," he continued, with a wave of the hand at Lobsang, "as you were saying…"

Lobsang laughed. "Indeed. But yes, the answer to Korra's question is that, yes, in a nutshell, Air Nomads drink alcohol. We even have our own traditional brews and liquors, just as every nation does, and I can assure you, a party of monks and nuns can get _quite interesting_, when _chhaang _starts to flow."

"_Chhaang_?" Sokka asked.

"A kind of beer made from millet grain. Very traditional for our people."

Sokka nodded, while Korra giggled. "I find it amusing that Aang's name is in there."

Lobsang shrugged. "Like I said, we're not as stodgy as we may appear. Now, as I said, my people do drink, and when they want to, they drink a lot, and we occasionally have the same issues with drinking as everyone else does. However, there were once certain monastic orders that prohibited or limited drinking. For example, at the Southern Air Temple, where Avatar Aang came from, drinking was strictly forbidden at the monastery, and the monks and nuns there often preached against drink among the population. Not," he leaned in, and gave the two a wink, "that it ever did much good."

"So," Sokka said, lips pursed in thought, "each temple was different?"

Lobsang nodded. "They were, and they changed over time. Oddly enough, Sozin's war against us united us in a way that we never had been before. There are much fewer differences among the three remaining temples than there used to be, and many of the more extreme tendencies are gone. My people no longer aim for complete separation from the world, though even that wasn't uniform among us all."

"It's the problem with them being nomads, I suppose," Korra observed. "You move around a lot, and there's going to be a lot of changes and differences of opinion."

"And that's not even getting into all the minor temples and orders, outside of the main four temples," Lobsang replied. "Though that," he continued, "has also changed with the War. Sozin's assault did more damage than we could ever know, and my people will never be the same. Which," he finished, bowing his head to Sokka, "answers, at least in part, your own questions."

"More or less," Sokka admitted.

Korra, for her part, looked a little downcast. "There really is no returning things to what they once were, is there?"

"Definitely not; remember, the only constant in life is change, and, if I'm perfectly honest," Lobsang looked down, and allowed himself a small, resigned-sort of sigh, "not all of those changes are for the worse. For example, I, for one, am quite glad to see the child marriage and polygamy that was common among my people before the War gone, I hope, for good."

"Man," Sokka said, shaking his head, "you ever find yourself wistful for the days when we were all young enough to think that the Fire Nation was pure evil, and our side was pure good?"

"There," Lobsang said, "I have to disagree. There is never a downside to maturity."

"Even when it hurts?" Korra asked.

Lobsang bowed his head. "_Especially _when it hurts."

Korra gave him a thin smile. "You really are, like, an endless fountain of wisdom."

Lobsang winked, tapping his finger to his nose. "That's only because we former monks are very good at speaking cryptically."

"That's for damn sure," Sokka commented, before a mischievous glint that Lobsang liked very much entered his eyes. "Hey…I gotta ask…I've heard all the _mystical and mysterious koans _you guys have, but you just _have _to have, like, joke ones, right?"

"Well," Lobsang admitted, eyes softening as he looked back into his youth, "now that you mention it…"

He didn't tell the _really _good ones, though. After all, Korra _was _only fifteen, and he felt that it was only right and proper that, like a normal teenager, she find those ones out all on her own. _After all_, he thought, smiling at the memories, _that's half the fun._

* * *

I like Lobsang. Who wouldn't? That guy's just fun. Plus, he fills the spot that Iroh left vacant when he became one of the _bad guys _in this fic.

(By the way, if you don't know that, in this AU, _bad _and _good _can be very hard to define, you're not paying attention)

For those playing the home game, _chaang _really is a Tibetan/Nepali traditional alcoholic beverage, and it really is made from millet. I went with the Tibetan name, both for the obvious reasons, and, because, some on, _Aang _is in there. How could I resist?

About the Air Nomads and they're current state: I imagine that the Fire Nation annexed the Western Air Temple, and keep the Southern and the Northern temples under close watch. Only at the Eastern Air Temple are Air Nomads relatively free, and even there, well...they're not as nomadic as they once were.

As for the allusions to the monastic orders and crap...trust me, it could be _very _complicated. Do an hour's research on Tibetan Buddhism, even now, under Communist rule, and your mind will break within ten minutes. That shit is _complex. _Only in the West do we think it's all serene and crap. In reality, foreign religions are just as complex and fragmented as the Presbyterian Church is.

But enough about that! In the next chapter, fluff over dinner and drinks! Stay tuned!


	75. DINNER

DINNER

THEY ATE DINNER AT A NICE RESTAURANT THAT JIAYI AND LAO HAD RECOMMENDED TO KATARA. It was an intimate sort of place, with walled-in booths and skinny tabletops and softly burning candles. While they waited for the bottle of wine they had ordered to arrive, Katara delighted in blowing out the candles and making Zuko light them. Each time she did it, he put on a little bit more of a show, and by the time the wine finally arrived, she wasn't quite sure if she was laughing, swooning, or obscene amounts of both.

The food was delicious, but they didn't taste it. The wine had been perfectly paired with the meal, and was just the right compromise between taste and strength, but they didn't feel it. The restaurant was quiet and orderly, and a wonderful musician played love songs from all four nations, but they didn't hear it. Even when Ryu randomly popped in to embarrass Zuko, shamelessly flirt with Katara, and belt out an enthusiastic rendition of the Fire Nation classic _Gondola no Uta_, it barely even registered in their minds.

They were too busy talking, holding hands atop the table, occasionally playing footsies underneath it, and completely ignoring the world as it staggered by.

"So," she said, turning his hand over and softly tracing the lines of his palm, "tell me a story."

"Any story," he asked, as he lightly rubbed his thumb on her hand as it followed those lines and grooves, "or a particular kind of story?"

"Any story, so long as it's nice. No bad thoughts or sad memories are allowed here tonight."

"Hmmm…oddly enough, I can accommodate that. So…let me think…ah! You'll actually appreciate this one. You, of course, know Mai by now."

"I told you that!"

"You didn't tell me how you two ended up hoisting drinks downtown."

"Let's just say that she called on Jiayi, and we ran into each other, and she recognized me from the night of the ball-"

"For which I feel _awful_."

"Hey! Imagine how I feel! But yeah, we decided that the only thing to be done was to be girly and drink girly drinks and talk about how much of a dork you are."

"So you might already know this story."

"Possibly…but I want to hear it from you."

"I can handle that. Also, there was totally some conspiracy stuff going on with that little story of yours."

"What! Well, I _never…_"

"Don't think you can cute your way out of this. I mean, you totally _can_, so that's an empty threat, but still…"

"Hey, _story_."

"Ah, right. So, do you know what a _miai _is?"

"Not a clue. Should I?"

"Hell, I've had to endure one, and I barely even know what it is. Basically, among the nobility back home, marriages are all arranged, and after the initial negotiations are concluded, a _miai _is arranged, so the prospective bride and groom can actually meet each other. Only, _they don't actually meet each other. _What happens is, the two families, accompanied by their intermediaries, meet at a prearranged spot at a prearranged time, _except that they don't_. Everyone's supposed to pretend that it was completely random."

"Okay, I gotta stop you right there. Why?"

"So that, if one family changes their mind, there's no insult. After all, no actual meeting took place, did there?"

"Avoiding insults is very big for you guys."

"Well, it's more, _avoiding Agni Kais_, but yeah, pretty much."

"So, let me guess: The bride and the groom aren't actually supposed to talk to each other."

"Of course not! That might make sense. No, we're supposed to stand as far apart from each other as possible, and gaze longingly in each other's general directions. No direct eye contact, though."

"Naturally. Can't run the risk that the two people whose futures are being decided might think they actually have a say in things."

"You learn fast!"

"Oddly enough, the Northern Water Tribe does something very similar, but we won't get into that. _Story._"

"Right. So, picture this: I'm sixteen, fresh from my second year at the Academy. I'm pretty excited; I've swung permission to spend the summer at Toru's family's estate, so all I have to do is spend, like, a week or so at the Palace, and then I get to go. Now, I wouldn't have even had to do _that_, except my mother insisted, because she said she had some exciting news for me."

"I bet she was just bubbling over with joy."

"You have no idea."

"I think have a good one. My mother basically set me up with my first boyfriend; she was over the moon when I agreed. She was pretty much planning the wedding right then and there. Hell, she probably still is."

"If only she could see you now…"

"Hey! Happy thoughts!"

"Ah, my bad! But yeah, so, I head back to the Palace, get my stuff ready, hang out with my sister, avoid my father, call on my uncle, you know, the usual. Well, one day, my mother shows up, and she's all, _You know, Zuko, we haven't taken a walk in the City Gardens in a long time…why don't we do that today? And let's bring Azula, too, and your aunt, and why don't you wear this outfit I picked out for you the other day. Oh, why did I do that? No reason. Yes, I know they're formal robes, but I won't get to see you all summer, and I'd dearly love to see you in them today…"_

"Ugh, gag me with a _spoon._"

"Isn't that what Toph's always saying about us?"

"Different kind of gagging. It's just…I can totally picture all of this in my head. Mothers are the same everywhere, I swear."

"It's one of life's great constants. But, as I was saying, I'm instantly suspicious, right? And the inclusion of my aunt? What's with that? Surely the Fire Lady has better things to do than wander around the gardens on a random summer day. And why drag my sister along? That seemed cruel; Mother knew how much Azula hated getting all gussied up."

"Did you figure it out?"

"Sadly, no; Azula had to fill me in on our way to the gardens."

"You can be very dense sometimes."

"Don't I know it. So, I get there, and we're taking this very sedate, very strange route through the gardens, and it's totally not the right time of year for this, but whatever, I'm, like, _really nervous_. Marriage negotiations are kept very hush-hush, and even Azula didn't know who we were going there to meet."

"Or _pretend meet_."

"You catch on fast."

"It's what I do. Go on."

"So, we're walking along, and every time my mother and my aunt stop to chat to a party of people, my heart leaps into my chest. Azula's scanning everyone's faces, on the lookout for young ladies she figures she might know from school (since the higher-born ones would be the most likely candidates), and I am just, like, _absurdly _nervous."

"Why be nervous? You literally don't have to do anything."

"Because I'm me?"

"Oh, if only you knew how nervous I was about tonight, you'd wouldn't be so hard on yourself."

"Hey, it's my story time."

"Don't let me stop you!"

"Then stop biting your lip!"

"I don't know what you're talking about…"

"You're ridiculous."

"I know."

"Give me a kiss."

"I thought you'd never ask."

"…what was I talking about?"

"You're _miai _with Mai. Heh…I like it."

"Trust me, Azula made that joke long before you did. But yeah, there we are, and I've about had enough of this. I'm hot, I'm sweaty, my feet hurt because of these ridiculous shoes I had to wear, all I want to do is get this over with, and I can't keep imagining some, like, crazed, ugly witch of a girl, and Azula's not helping, trust me. She keeps spinning elaborate stories about how it's _totally _one of the girls she hates from the Royal Girls' Academy, and she makes each girl sound more grotesque than the last one, and then, lo and behold…"

"There she is, the Lady Arinori Mai and her family."

"Yup. To say that I was shocked would be an understatement. Later, I understood. Hers is a powerful family, one of the elite _Twenty-Four Clans_, very well connected, impeccable birth and ancestry, and the fact that she was friends with my sister just made it a win-win. At the time…"

"You were kind of grossed out."

"Right? I knew what marriage meant at that point, and here I was, being matched up with someone I'd known since they played with dolls. Not an appealing image."

"I can imagine. So, what happened? You totally did something embarrassing, didn't you? Oh…ooh! Please tell me your sister did something crazy!"

"Honestly, Azula was too shocked to do anything. She looked at _least _as grossed out as I was. And as for Mai, she couldn't stop staring at me."

"Which is a pretty big no-no."

"I think everyone was too busy patting themselves on the back to notice or care."

"So, come on, what did you do?"

"Well…um…in a nutshell…I…_I tripped._"

"…what."

"I…I tripped…there was this stone in the path that wasn't set right, or I wasn't paying attention, and I _might _have tripped over it and I _might _have completely lost my balance and I _might _have gone flailing through the air and my sister _might _have spent the next two years doing impressions of it and I _might _have shouted something not fit for polite company as I tumbled head-over-ass and I _might _have fallen right on top of Mai and we _might _have gone rolling in the grass and I _might _have smacked my head against a rock and started bleeding and said blood _might _have gotten on Mai's dress and Mai's mother _might _have started screaming bloody murder and the guards _might _have thought that someone was trying to kill us and things _might _have spiraled wildly out of control from there."

"…_what._"

"It…um…I can assure you, it looked _way worse _in person."

"…_**what.**_"

"So…good story…?"

"I…I really don't know what to say. I mean, I knew you were a goof on the order of my brother, but…_gods_, Zuko…"

"Yeah…I still don't know how she ended up liking me so much…"

"How could she not? That story is adorable. If I'd been in her shoes, I would've fallen in love with you right then and there."

"That…that makes absolutely no sense."

"That's because you have no sense for the romantic."

"_Ahem_. I have _plenty _of sense for the romantic."

"Oh? Prove it."

"Well, lean in a bit, and I'll do just that."

"Ooh, I like where this is heading…"

It was at least another two hours before the waiter finally got them to leave.

* * *

For those playing the home game, a _miai _was an actual thing back in medieval Japan. I've simplified it a bit, but what you're reading is pretty much what the deal was. Ditto for the whole, _those whose marriages are being arranged rarely have any idea who they're being matched with until they're matched. _I've never understood the reasoning behind that, but it's been enough of a constant across various societies to be _a thing. _*shrugs* Cultures are weird sometimes.

Also, _Gondola no Uta _really is an old-timey Japanese song. I'd recommend not checking it out on YouTube, but, rather, getting ahold of the Akira Kurosawa movie _Ikiru _and watching that. The song's in there, and it'll break your heart when it shows up. It's a wonderful movie; can't recommend it enough.

But that's enough of that. In the next chapter, our three favorite Fire Nation ladies work out. Stay tuned!


	76. MAI V

MAI

"AGAIN!"

She pulled the three _shuriken _out of the wall. She didn't like the pattern they had landed in. There was an unequal distance between each one, and they weren't all in a straight line. She stashed them about her body, moving to the other side of the room. Between her and the wall, Azula and Ty Lee staked out their positions. They were all dressed in _ninja _uniforms, their hair in tight buns, their bodies coiled like serpents preparing to strike. Mai took up her own position, face to the wall, back to her friends. She wondered what position they would take this time.

She breathed in. _I am like the wind in the leaves, the water in the stream, the earth beneath the grass, the fire that flows in my veins. _She breathed out. _I strike like lightning, move like air, flow like water, destroy like earth. _In. Out. In. Out.

She closed her eyes.

_I am eleven. I have stolen a knife from one of the estate guards. He gave it to me, because he saw me eyeing it and believed that not even a girl should be without protection. That's what he said, but he was probably indulging his master's daughter. He told me to say I stole it. I like the idea. When I'm left alone, as I so often am, I hurl it into a tree in a back corner of the estate. I get better every time._

She moved.

She throws the first _shuriken _before she's even finished turning around. It strikes exactly where she means it to. She knows this without looking. She can feel it in her bones. She can feel it in her blood. She can feel it in her soul.

_I am fourteen. The miai has fallen apart. A boy with blood trickling from his brow is lurching off me. I don't particularly want him to go. I'm praying no one sees my blush. Azula can't stop laughing. My mother is horrified. The boy helps me to my feet. He's bright red and can't stop rubbing the back of his neck. His mother doesn't seem to know what to do. Her Majesty the Fire Lady – his aunt – seems to think it's all quite amusing. He asks me if I'm alright. He's the first person other than Azula and Ty Lee to ever ask me that._

She doesn't see Azula, but she knows she's there. Azula strikes, and she strikes back. They parry back and forth. Azula is delaying. Mai knows this. She realizes it almost too late. She darts out of the way so that Ty Lee's blows jab at empty air. She throws the second _shuriken_. She doesn't hear it make impact. She has no idea if it went where she wanted it to go. It doesn't matter. She has only one more to throw.

_I am sixteen. My mother is telling me that Zuko has fallen from favor, that his father has finally punished him for his impertinence. I can't stop crying. My mother rolls her eyes and tells me not to fret so. It was a bad match anyways. She should've known it from the miai. She should never have let me talk her into letting my father sign the marriage contract. She'll find me someone better, someone who knows their place, someone who won't trip and fall at a miai, someone whose sister isn't such a bad influence, someone whose father isn't a drunk. The only thing that makes my mother sad is that we won't be invited to the Palace as much anymore. I tell her that none of that matters to me. She looks at me like I've grown another head._

She's on the ground. Azula has knocked her legs out from under her. She rolls, realizes at the last second that this is exactly what her friends want her to do. Ty Lee jabs for two nerve clusters in her back while Azula tries to hold her in place. She punches Azula in the stomach, parries Ty Lee's attacks, sweeps Ty Lee's own legs out from under her even as she stops and parries Azula's follow-up attack. She rolls and leaps into the air. She's flying.

_I am seventeen. I keep drawings of Ozai hidden in a secret compart of my room that Ty Lee and Azula helped me build and install. We buy them wherever we can, as secretly as we can. When we're left alone, we go to the tree, my tree, my spot of peace. We pin the pictures up and practice hurling knives into it. One day, on the anniversary of Zuko's banishment, we put up three straw dummies and give each one Ozai's face. Ty Lee pummels hers into nonexistence; she never tells us why she's so angry. Azula burns hers into ash; she never admits that she's choking back tears. I slice mine into ribbons; I don't bother trying not to cry._

She throws her final _shuriken _as Azula meets her in mid-air and they both go tumbling to the ground. They roll and they punch and they kick and they jab. Ty Lee has just tried to knock the flying _shuriken _out of the air with her boot. Mai doesn't know if she succeeds. All she knows is that Ty Lee has hit the ground rolling, and is already piled on Mai. She's pinned. She can't move. Ty Lee presses two fingers against a nerve cluster in her back. Azula has her hands wrapped around Mai's neck. She's finished. It's over.

_I am eighteen. It is night. Two girls dressed as ninjas crouch on my floor. We talk in whispers, in the language Ty taught us. Azula tells me that it's all true, that the Avatar has returned. The Avatar will need a firebending teacher. Azula intends to be that teacher. She needs me to help her. She could do it without me, but she doesn't want to. She asks me if I still want my vengeance. I don't even have to think about it. I say yes before the words are even finished coming out of Azula's mouth. Azula smiles and ruffles my hair. Ty knocks the wind out of me with a bear hug. We all laugh without making a sound._

Mai finally opens her eyes.

"Say _oji!_" Azula shouts.

Mai laughs in her face. _"Never!"_

Azula smiles, gets off of her. "That's my girl."

"Eh," Ty Lee says, joining Azula in helping Mai to her feet, "I would've said _oji_, right before I used the knife I keep in my boot."

"That's because you're more devious than you look," Mai replies, brushing off her clothes.

"People never suspect the girl with pink ribbons in her hair," Ty Lee observes. "Which they should, really. It's always the cute ones."

Azula crosses her arms and pops an eyebrow. "I thought _I _was the cute one."

"No," Ty Lee says, rolling her eyes, "you're the _hot one_. Everyone suspects the hot one. That's why you need me."

"Wait," Mai says, holding up a hand, "if you're the cute one, and Azula's the hot one, what am I?"

"The dangerous one, of course," Ty Lee explains, in a tone that says, _Seriously, am I the only one who bothers to think of this stuff?_

"But, I thought we were all dangerous."

"Well, we are, but only one of us never leaves her room without at least ten lethally sharp objects stashed about her person."

"And that's not even counting the hair pins," Azula points out.

"One should always count the hair pins," Mai replies.

Mai takes a deep breath, lets her wits gather about her, looks about the room. It's dark; two candles burn in two opposite corners of the room, and that's it. They've piled all the furniture against the walls and given the servants and the guards the night off. Supposedly, the girls are cackling away, drinking wine, doing each other's nails, and telling silly stories. By the time anyone bothers to come back from the city and look in, that's exactly what they'll be doing.

But they have a good hour or two more before that happens.

"So," Mai says, grinning, "I can't help but feel that was better, but I'm afraid to look. How'd I do?"

Azula points at the wall. "Perfect, actually. Look for yourself."

Mai shoots her a look. "You're lying."

Azula puts on an innocent smile. "Would I lie?"

"Um, _duh_," Ty Lee retorts as she walks over to the wall. Mai follows her with her eyes, and allows herself a predatory grin.

All three _shuriken _are in a perfect row, an exact quarter-of-an-inch between each one.

_Perfect._

Ty Lee removes the _shuriken _with quick, deft, dainty movements. She turns to the others, a look of glee on her face. "So, it's totally my turn now, right? I mean, Mai got two, and Azula, you started us off, so…_yes…?_"

Azula rolls her eyes. "Fine, Ty, it's your turn."

Ty Lee squeals with delight and dashes to the other side of the room. Mai and Azula take their positions. Mai can't stop smiling. _Perfect._

_ To this day, Ty and Azula are the only ones who've ever called me perfect, and meant it._

Azula nods at her. "Ready?"

_I am nineteen. I've just killed my first man. We help Azula carry his and his friend's bodies to a secluded place. Ty asks me if it was hard. I admit that it wasn't. I just pictured the man with Ozai's face. Ty shrugs and said she did the same, only she pictured him with Yoshihito's face. I know why now. I wish I didn't. I'm glad I do._

_ It's good to have friends._

Mai laughs.

"Always."

* * *

Somewhere in the future, someone will read this chapter and rub one out to it. _I just know it. _But whatever, I like it. Read too much into things if you want to.

For those playing the home game (_and who didn't read "Wild, Wild Love"_), _oji _is Japanese for _uncle. _I just thought that was a nice detail.

There's also a reference to the Netflix series _Marco Polo, _which is _excellent. _I'm not going to give details, but it has to do with the comment about hair pins. My wife will get it. Also, you should watch it; there's nothing quite like seeing a show where the white guy's the sidekick.

Moving on! In the next chapter, I totally steal the lantern scene from the original series. Stay tuned!


	77. LANTERNS

LANTERNS

BEFORE THEY GET TO THEIR DESTINATION, ZUKO MAKES HER CLOSE HER EYES. She makes a big production of objecting, even as she complies and does nothing to hide the stupid grin on her face. He leads her by the hand. They can't help but feel that their hearts are beating in time. Their heads swim, and they can't stop giggling. They feel drunk, and it has nothing to do with the wine.

Finally he stops her.

"Alright," he says, and he's close enough that she can feel his breath tickling her skin, can feel his heart thumping away in his chest, "I'm going to let you open your eyes, but first, you have to earn it, alright?"

She nods. She's very excited. She can't think properly. Her brain never works quite right when she's around him.

"I think I can do that."

He laughs. It sounds dumb and stupid to his ears. He can't believe that his laugh makes her smile even more. He thinks she's crazy. He doesn't really care. He's beginning to suspect that there's something more here than meets the eye.

She's beginning to suspect the same thing.

"So," he says, holding her close, pressing his own hands over her own, so she can see nothing, nothing at all, but she doesn't want to, she's doing just fine with her own imagination, "I want you to tell me about the most beautiful thing you ever saw."

She doesn't even have to think.

"I was seven. It was winter, one of the worst winters we'd ever had. The War had just ended, and the men were just beginning to come home. Dad wasn't back yet and the men of our clan weren't back yet, and we were very scared. We were worried that one of the other tribes would take advantage, attack us while we were weak. Every day, my mother led the women in weapons drills, fighting practice, made the waterbenders work hard on shoring up our defenses, using the snow and the ice to put up walls. We'd never had walls before. There never seemed a point. If the Fire Nation came, we'd just take to the hills. But now, we didn't trust the hills. Sokka practiced with his spear with the other boys all the time. I was scared all the time. I felt useless. I was only seven, but I couldn't help but feel that I should do something other than help Gran-Gran cook.

"One day, a really bad blizzard hit. Everyone huddled in the main hall, where we held all the feasts and meetings and everything. I knew I was a waterbender, but I couldn't do much yet. No one really had time to train me, so I was left trying to do things on my own. It was infuriating, I remember that. I could feel the water, feel it flowing through my veins, feel snow as it fell against the roof of the hall, but I couldn't _do _anything with it. The best I could do was make water vibrate in a cup.

"That's what I was doing, that day. I was sitting on the floor, with a cup of water before me, trying to make it do something. I didn't care what it did, as long as it did _something_. I _needed _it to do something. I needed it _desperately, _because _I _needed to do something, be _able _to do something. I didn't want to feel helpless anymore, and I never wanted to feel helpless again.

"It was very hot in the hall, I remember that very clearly, very hot and very cold, all at the same time. It was very crowded; we could barely move. We had to work together for anyone to go to the bathroom. Normally, we would've waited out a blizzard like this in our homes, but that winter, we didn't feel safe on our own. We needed each other, needed to make sure no one would be left alone.

"At first, I didn't realize what I'd done. I'd just been doing forms and moves, or, at least, what I _thought _were forms and moves, trying to mimic what I saw the trained waterbenders do when they practiced. I just kept going and going, and then, suddenly, Sokka, he was sitting across from me, he leaped to his feet and started shouting and dancing and yelling and cheering. Mom was talking to someone, and she turned, and her whole face lit up. Gran-Gran looked like she could've died happy and content right then and there.

"That's when I realized what I'd done. I'd pulled a single drop of water from the cup. It was floating in mid-air. It was perfect, at least, it was perfect to me, like a diamond glittering in the dark, a star twinkling in the sky. Everyone started clapping and cheering, and they kept asking me to _do it again, Katara, do it again! _So I dropped it back into the cup, and concentrated hard, and then I did it again, and again, and by the end of the evening, I was making the entire cup's worth of water float in mid-air.

"That's when I knew I was going to be okay. That's when I knew we all going to be okay. Dad and the other men were going to come home, and the War was going to be over, and everything was going to be okay, because _I _was going to be okay, and I knew I was never going to be helpless again."

She took a deep breath, let it out, and did nothing to hide the tears in her eyes.

"Was that good enough?"

He kissed her softly on the forehead. She purred like a cat as he did it. When he spoke, his voice was choked with emotion.

"Yeah, that's _more _than good enough."

She giggled. "Can I open my eyes now?"

"You can."

She opened her eyes. She gasped. It was marvelous.

They were standing before a large, round, artificial pond. It was ringed with lamps, the flames dancing in their cases. The whole world had a beautiful, ethereal glow. She looked down at the water, and watched the flames floating in a surface as still and clear as glass. She couldn't see the poles holding up the lamps; it was like the flames of the lamps were hovering in mid-air.

_Like my water drop…_

She looked up at him. He looked nervous, but proud. He had been afraid she wouldn't like it, but even he wasn't a big enough idiot to not see that she loved it.

"Did you light these just for me?" she teased.

He struck a pose. "Let's just go ahead and pretend I did."

She laughed. "I can do that."

He chuckled, rubbed the back of his neck. "So, you like it?"

She rolled her eyes, popped up on her toes, slid her arms around his neck, and kissed him like she was never going to kiss him again.

* * *

I'm a pretty committed Zutaran, but, if there's back-up ship that I don't mind and I can work with, it's Zuko/Jin. I'm not the _biggest _fan of Jin, but I don't mind her, and if that's a pairing in a fic, I'm okay with it, especially if it's done well. That's why I've stolen the lantern scene, and, I think, sold it.

I know I say this a lot, but this is actually one of my favorite things that I've ever written. I just really like the mental image.

*looks cute in hopes for fanart*

But I digress. Before moving on to the next chapter, I want to shout-out to _Of Tea, Rebellions, and Becoming a Dragon, _which is a Zuko/Jin fic by Airplane. I don't like the way it ends at all (it feels like it falls apart to me), and I have some other issues, but it's _extremely _well-written, and a very good read. You can find it under my _Favorite Stories _tab. It's good times.

Moving on! That's actually all for today; I'm going to try to stick to a _five at a time _posting schedule until I have the rest of this up. I think this is a good point to pause. The wife and I are going on a little roadtrip today, which I have to go get ready for, so, read up and enjoy!

In the next chapter, we check in at the Palace, and play Pai Sho with Iroh. Stay tuned!


	78. THE CONFIDANTE I

THE CONFIDANTE

THERE WERE TWO ROYAL GUARDS POSTED OUTSIDE THE DOOR WHEN IMAWANO KIYOSHIRO ARRIVED. This was not surprising; there were always two guards, and only two guards, posted outside of this particular door, day or night. They looked tired, but alert; by standing Royal Decree, they did not wear their infamous skull masks inside the Palace. They did not stop him, hinder him, or comment on his arrival. They merely bowed as he came to the door, bows he returned, before he softly knocked three times on the door. He waited a moment, then nodded at the guards. Without a word, one of them reached over and opened the door. He stepped inside, blinking at the light blazing from within. He waited for the soft _click _of the door closing, and then went, slowly, carefully to his knees. He bowed, his forehead to the floor, rose, bowed, rose, bowed a final time. Only then did he rise fully and stride over to the Pai Sho board in the middle of the room. Still having not said a word, he took his place in the empty chair, sedately taking out his pipe, packing it, lighting it with a flame bent from his fingertip. He took several puffs, flaring the tobacco in the bowl to life.

The most powerful man in the world sat across from him, and chuckled. "Oh, Kiyoshiro," he said, in a soft, light tone, as he began to put all the pieces into place, "one of these days I will convince you that kowtowing is unnecessary. You, of all people, have no need to fall to your knees like the lowest peasant."

Kiyoshiro shrugged. The man across from him, as usual, eschewed court language, and Kiyoshiro did him the courtesy of doing the same. "Of course not, for one day, you will no longer be Fire Lord, and I will have no reason to fall to my knees."

Iroh popped an eyebrow, stroking his beard with one hand while the other placed pieces and his pipe bobbed in the air, the stem clamped firmly between his teeth. "You will not render the proper courtesies to my son, as you so insist on doing to me?"

Kiyoshiro reached out to a piece Iroh had placed haphazardly, so that half of it was in the space next to it. "As I have told you many times, Your Majesty, on the day you go to join your ancestors, I will gracefully retire, and go to tend flowers in a place no royal would ever think to go."

"There are not many places like that, with my ample rear on the Scarlet Throne," Iroh pointed out.

Kiyoshiro acknowledged the point with a tip of his head. "Hence why I am waiting until you leave this domain, Your Majesty."

Iroh laughed. "Touché, old friend, touché." He took a long drag on his pipe, blew out the smoke in a series of lop-sided rings. "Someday, my friend, I will learn that trick." He pondered the smoke rings as they fell apart, drifting together into an amorphous cloud that drifted up towards the ceiling. "You know, my niece has been able to blow perfect rings since she was barely thirteen-years-old."

Kiyoshiro popped an eyebrow. "Is it your niece that you wish to speak of?"

Iroh's shoulders slumped, and he sighed a sigh that spoke of unfathomable burdens. "Perhaps…but not yet. For now, I believe, as usual, you have the first move."

Kiyoshiro bowed his head. "As my sovereign commands." He contemplated the board, made his move, and they began to play.

As was customary, Kiyoshiro waited until the tenth round to break the silence. "Cannot sleep again, Your Grace?"

Iroh shook his head. "I'm afraid not. There is much work to be done, and by the time it is done, I have drank so much tea that I cannot so much as rest my head on my desk."

"I remember a time when you could drink tea by the gallon and still take naps in between meetings."

"Ah, but I'm not as young as I once was, am I, my friend?"

"None of us are," Kiyoshiro observed with great sadness.

"Yes," Iroh sighed, "none of us."

It was another ten turns before either of them spoke again. This time, it was Iroh who took the initiative.

"Have you heard the latest news?"

Kiyoshiro pondered the board. "Which news, Your Grace? There is so much news these days."

"And little of it good."

"That, I beg to remind you, is nothing new."

"I cannot dispute that. The tide comes in, the tide comes out. The same drop of water never laps a shore twice, but the course of the sea never falters."

"Reading Air Nomad scrolls again, Your Majesty? Surely you are aware that such tomes are forbidden."

"Many things are forbidden. Too many, it sometimes seems to me."

"And what forbidden things prey on Your Majesty's peace of mind tonight?"

Iroh puffed his pipe several times before he answered. "There has been another draft riot, in Sapporo, this time."

"The City of the Fire Fountains?"

"The same. Not as bad as the one in Kagoshima, but troubling nonetheless."

"Will there be another round of executions?"

Iroh shook his head. "Not this time. When the first becomes the second, it behooves us to take small steps, least we find ourselves arriving at the third."

"Wise words, Your Majesty."

"I believe I read them on the bottom of a tea cup once."

"So does all of your wisdom come to us, Your Majesty."

"It seems that way sometimes, doesn't it?"

A pause, a move. "Have you learned anything from this latest round of draft riots?"

"I'm not sure. Outwardly, at least, the prisoners still profess loyalty to me; it is only the draft that they hate, the draft and the War."

"But you are wondering how big of a step it will be until we reach that mythical third, and how far along we already are towards it."

"As usual, my friend, you cut right to the heart of the matter."

"I must justify my grotesque salary somehow, Your Grace."

"I pay you absolutely nothing, Kiyoshiro."

"As I said, grotesque."

That brought a genuine laugh; it seemingly rose from the bottom of the Fire Lord's stomach. Kiyoshiro silently congratulated himself for drawing it out.

"What would I do without you, Kiyoshiro?"

"Wake someone else up in the middle of the night to play Pai Sho, no doubt. Probably your wife."

"My wife thanks the gods every day since you agreed to come to the Palace."

"She no doubt grew tired of losing."

"As I occasionally do. We all have our foibles."

"Yes we do, like dancing around the subject we really want to talk about."

Kiyoshiro spared a moment to watch the Fire Lord then. Kiyoshiro knew the man well. They had gone through the Academy together, where Iroh had been second and Kiyoshiro first; the instructors had tried to make it come out the other way, but Iroh had refused. They had served their first tour of duty together, and ever after, Kiyoshiro had always been somewhere on Iroh's staff. Iroh blamed all his greatest victories on Kiyoshiro, and Kiyoshiro blamed all of Iroh's greatest defeats on Iroh.

It was a good system, and they both enjoyed it very much.

Finally, the Fire Lord spoke.

"I do not think my son shall succeed me."

Kiyoshiro nodded. "A wise decision. I did not look forward to the day after you passed, when he would no doubt order me to commit _seppuku_."

"Would you?"

"I would certainly consider it, if only on principle. Why, if I might inquire, do you no longer believe your son should succeed you?"

"Because he is weak, and a fool. It is my fault, but that does not change the fact that he is a fool. My father warned me of this, warned me that a weakness ran in our family, a weakness that I should always be ready to burn out without the slightest hesitation, advice I am proud to say I have never taken."

"No doubt why your brother still walks among the living."

"Mercy has its downsides."

"A lesson we learned long ago. But, Your Majesty, who shall succeed you?"

"Who do _you _think should succeed me?"

"If we have time, one of your grandchildren. Hopefully, they will not inherit your own children's weaknesses."

"And if we don't have time?"

"Your niece, of course."

"Not my nephew?"

"Your nephew is still in disgrace, banished from the realm for the crime of disobedience to his father, as well as for the greater crime of standing up for the honor of the realm in a way that made your brother's small, but loud and powerful, clique of fanatics look bad."

"Ah…but what if he was no longer in disgrace?"

"What if badger-moles could fly?"

"I'm being serious, Kiyoshiro."

"So am I, Your Majesty. What if badger-moles could fly? It would change the entire world."

"It is a conundrum. One must always carefully consider the ramifications of even the slightest change to the way things are."

"Unless Your Majesty has already decided to change them."

"Indeed." Iroh took a long, hard look at the board. "I believe, old friend, that I shall win in ten."

"Ah, that is so, but before that happens, I shall win in eight."

"You are bluffing."

"I always do. It is for the courage to bluff Your Majesty that you always let me win."

"So I allow you to believe." Iroh bowed his head. "Victory is yours once more, my friend. Kindly reset the board and make your first move."

Kiyoshiro bowed right back. "As Your Majesty commands." He began to follow the Royal Directive. "What shall we talk about this game?"

"The effects of badger-moles flying, of course."

"Naturally."

They played long into the morning.

* * *

It's not an Avatar fic if, at some point, someone doesn't play Pai Sho with Iroh. That's an immutable law of reality, I believe. It's right up there with, _Thou shalt not write Iroh without him indulging in pseudo-Zen bullshit, nor shalt thou have Iroh do such without him calling himself out on it. _The forms matter in these things, I believe.

There's a lot going on up there, pretty much all of it important. File it away; it'll matter later on.

Remember, kids: _I like to set shit up in advance._

Moving on: In the next chapter, Captain Ueno pops in, and our favorite lieutenant pops in on him. Stay tuned!


	79. THE CAPTAIN II

THE CAPTAIN

THE SUN HAD BARELY RISEN, AND YET, CAPTAIN UENO TSUDA WAS ALREADY HARD AT WORK. He couldn't help but be amused at this turn of events, not the fact that he was hard at work, but, rather, at the fact that, for the first time in four years, he was hard at work largely on his own. The reason, of course, was simple: Half the company was hungover, and the other half was envious of said hangovers. By all rights, Ueno _should _have been alone.

But see, he normally…_wasn't. _Not for four years. For four years, no matter the extenuating circumstances, regardless of how much he may have _wished _to be working alone, it would never fail. He would get started on his day, and, out of nowhere, Tokugawa would appear, and beg to be of assistance, unless he was already hard at work doing whatever needed to be done.

_That boy…_

Ueno shook his head. He was a good boy, but he really needed to learn how to have fun. It hurt Ueno's heart, it really did, which was why he couldn't stop smiling, not since he had sent a clerk to check on Tokugawa's room and heard the report that the young man was _still _not back in his bed.

_Good. _Ueno nodded to himself, lighting up his pipe. _About time._

Which was why, when he heard the knock at the door, he almost burst into hysterical laughter.

Chuckling under his breath, he looked up to find none other than Tokugawa. Sure, the boy wasn't in uniform for the day; his dress uniform shirt hung undone, and he held his sword belt in one hand, and his topknot was even more askew than it usually was. But, he was there, and he was smiling, and he was saying, as helpful and determined as always, "May I have a moment, sir?"

Ueno stood and beckoned the boy in. "Of course, Lieutenant. How can I help you?"

Ueno was not the least bit surprised when an apologetic look came over the boy's face. He strode into the room, snapped to attention, and bowed, a bow that Ueno returned.

"I came to offer my apologies, sir. I should've been back at least an hour ago, if not more."

Ueno had to try very hard not to smile. "You just got in, Lieutenant?"

The boy looked away, obviously trying to hide his shit-eating grin. "Um…yes…_sir. _I…it was…um…" He tugged at where his loosened collar lay against his neck. "Well…you see…it was…very hard to get out of bed this morning…and…well…"

"Taking leave of the young lady took longer than expected…?" Ueno offered helpfully.

The boy was trying to grimace, he really was; Ueno was enjoying the show immensely. "Well…I couldn't let her walk back to the mansion by herself, and…well…I couldn't just…you know…drop her off and run back…"

Ueno waved the idea aside. "Perish the thought! You are an officer and a gentleman, Lieutenant, and I would expect nothing less of you."

The boy brightened. "Thank you, sir. I try to do you proud."

Ueno barely managed not to roll his eyes. "And you do, every day. Was that all you wanted to say?"

"Um…just that, well…I just wanted to let you know that I was back, and that I'll be ready in fifteen, twenty minutes, and I will perform my assigned duties without fail."

"I never had any doubts about that, Lieutenant. Was there anything else?"

The boy blinked, and tried to look innocent. Ueno saw through him right away. _Just spit it out, young man; not only will I not bite, but you might be surprised by the answer._

"Well…um…the championship fight is on Friday, as you know…and…um…Lady K-_Kya_, Lady Kya, she asked if it was at all possible if I could join her in the Lord Bei Fong's box to watch." The boy bowed his head. "I promised I would ask, sir."

Without even hesitating, Ueno drew from a drawer a piece of paper. He filled it out, dated it, signed it, and handed it over to his favorite officer. "Sign that, Lieutenant."

It took a minute for the words on the paper to sink in. "Um…sir…this is a pass to take that entire day off…"

Ueno nodded, and smiled. "So it is."

The boy shook his head and held the paper out. "I can't accept this, sir. It's not fair to the other officers."

Ueno popped an eyebrow. _This boy. _"I can assure you, your fellow officers will disagree, considering that, not once in four years, have you ever applied for so much as weekend liberty."

"I took last night off."

"Only because your fellow officers tricked you into it. So, take the pass, sign it, give it back to me before you head out the door for the day, and remember next Friday during the next four years of no leave. Deal?"

The boy bowed. "Is that an order, sir?"

"It absolutely is. Consider this payment for all the decorations you've earned, but have been unable to receive, and a thousand-thousand other slights against your honor and your service."

For a moment, the boy looked like he was going to cry. Falling back on military courtesy (a move Ueno knew well), he snapped to attention, bowed, and seemed to be trying very hard not to smile. "Thank you, sir. I can never repay you."

Ueno waved him out the door. "Just remember to keep me alive during the next ambush, and we'll call it even. Dismissed, Lieutenant; you have work to do."

Another bow, which Ueno, naturally, returned. "Immediately, sir."

Ueno was not at all surprised when Tokugawa was ready in ten minutes, and fixed an error in the pass that Ueno had made in his haste before running out the door.

_That boy…what am I going to do with him? With any of them? Best crop of officers I've ever had, I swear…_

* * *

Just thought I'd have everybody check in. Zuko's a good officer; it's the kind of thing he'd do. There's a reason why Ueno is so indulgent of him: Because he never actually _has _to be indulgent of him. The kid probably never asks for favors or tries to get out of anything or slacks off. So, when Ueno gets the chance to do the kid a solid, he jumps at it, no doubt thinking of how it'll probably be another four years before he gets the chance to be nice to the guy again.

So, one of you guys (I believe it was you, _inthehood_, who is apparently German, and, thus, I have to ask: Where in Germany are you from? I've only even been to Frankfurt, and then, only the airport...oh, and a one night layover in a Ramada Inn, where I got drunk in the hotel bar, because I had spare euro to blow), told me to be careful with the fluff. This is a good point...fluff has to be very carefully balanced. But I will also respond with this: _Be careful what you wish for. _A lot of my long-time readers know the truth of this statement. *maniacal laughter*

For those playing the home game...Germany is awesome, for one very good reason: The McDonald's there have beer taps. _This is amazing. _I'm not even joking. It's right up there with the beer vending machines in the airport in Kiev. It's the little things like these that make me wonder if I was born in the wrong country.

But enough about me; moving on! In the next chapter, Jun tries to get the heart of the conundrum that is the man we know best as Kojima, and, in the end, decides she'd rather not. Stay tuned!


	80. JUN

JUN

"I HAVE TO SAY," PING SAID, POURING HIMSELF ANOTHER GLASS OF WHISKEY, "I'M VERY IMPRESSED BY HOW QUICKLY YOU'VE BEEN ABLE TO PULL THIS ALL TOGETHER."

Jun shrugged, sipping calmly from her own glass. They were in the tent that had once belonged to one Bo Cai, sipping the man's rotgut whiskey and smoking the man's hideous cigars. Outside, the camp buzzed with life, a cacophony of blades being sharpened, armor being polished, and earthbenders practicing their forms. Commands were barked, curses were flung, and any time one of the rebels came into the tent for orders, they quaked with fear, terrified eyes desperately trying to look anywhere but at Ping and the hideously sharp knife on his belt.

_Yes, _she thought, allowing herself a sweet, serene smile, _this is the life. I should've gotten into the rebellion business long ago. _She looked at the thought, held it up, examined it carefully. _Now, there's an idea…_

Out loud, she said, in her usual, borderline disinterested tone, "Eh, what can I say? Half the work had already been done for me by these boys' own impatience for glory. Nevermind the fact," and here, she allowed a hint of pride to creep into her smile, "that this isn't the first isolated group of soldiers I've made disappear."

"Of that," Ping observed, blowing a thick stream of smoke into the air, "I have no doubt, though I like to think that this is the first time you've indulged in such theatrics."

"Hey, the client gets what the client wants. Your boss wanted a big show, he gets a big show."

Ping scoffed. "My boss doesn't _know _what he wants. He just wants plausible deniability; if the company just disappeared, that would raise too many questions. One more supposedly quiet district getting loud, though? That's all too common these days."

"Isn't that the truth," Jun groaned, raising her feet and dropping them onto the rickety camp table that sat between them. "It's getting to where one can barely do a piece of good, old-fashioned, clean bit of criminal enterprise anymore."

Ping laughed. "Now _that_, I very much doubt. Just look at Liu Bang down in Omashu; he's never done better, since the War came to town."

"Yeah, well, that's Liu Bang. If the world decided to come to an end tomorrow, he'd find a way to make a profit."

"True, true…you know, the Yakuza tried to push him out, not long after the city fell."

Jun had to laugh at the very _idea _that the great _Liu Bang_ could even be budged from Omashu, whose streets he had grown up slitting throats and purses on. "And look how that worked out for them. Rumor has it that there's yet to be a governor or a Viceroy who hasn't been in his pocket."

"Or too afraid of him to not at least look the other way."

"Meh, they both work."

"As long as it gets the job done?"

Jun raised a glass. "I believe that's _your _motto, Ping, not mine."

Ping returned the salute. "As much as I love you, Jun, don't presume to know what my motto is."

The cold that crept into Jun's bones had nothing to do with the temperature. Nothing in the man's expression had changed. His tone was just as relaxed as it always was, his manner unhurried, his eyes blank, hard, and cold. _And yet…_it was like someone had just walked over her grave. She looked into those eyes, saw the flash, so quick you weren't even sure it'd been there, and saw her death, waiting, coiled in the darkness, like some slithering _thing _that could not, and _should not_, be named.

_Beware of that man, Jun_, her old boss had said, not long before she slit his throat and tossed him into a river. _He could make Koh the Face-Stealer blink, and Koh would feel no shame in admitting it._ Which was why Jun felt no reservations about bowing her head and saying, "Apologies, my friend."

He waved the words away. "Don't worry about it; water under the bridge."

_And if I believe __**that, **__the letter making me the Empress of a re-established Earth Kingdom is in the mail, should be here tonight, tomorrow at the latest. _

She frowned at her glass, swirling the liquid around and around. "I have to ask, since we're on the subject…why are you doing this, Ping?"

Ping closed his eyes, settling deep into his chair. "Why do I do what I do, or why am I carrying out this assignment?"

"Whichever one is less likely to end with me in a shallow grave."

Ping chuckled like a man half-asleep, the kind of chuckle only someone without a care in the world could produce. "Oh, Jun, I would never leave you in a shallow grave. That would just be rude. Surely you think better of me."

_I don't know what to think of you, and I'm not sure I want to. _"Well, that's reassuring."

"I should hope so. But, in answer to your question…well, when one serves a prince of the royal blood, there are things one can safely say no to, and things one can't." He fell silent for a moment, as if he had just drifted off to sleep, but Jun knew better. She sipped her whiskey, smoked her cigar, and waited.

"To be honest," he continued, in a flippant, _who-gives-a-shit _tone, "this has been coming for quite some time. I can't say that I was surprised when he finally put it into words. Sure, I'd rather he focused on other things, but at the end of the day, a prince is a prince, _especially _when they're the heir to the most powerful man in the world."

"Though one has to wonder if he'll wish he'd listened when the most powerful man in the world finds out what his son has done."

"You intend to sell my employer out?" Ping replied, eyes still closed, without a hint of malice or betrayal in his voice.

Jun shrugged, feeling philosophical about the whole matter. "Meh, I'm just thinking ahead. I give it one year, two, tops, before your boss tries to weasel out of the price for keeping me quiet."

"I wouldn't worry about that."

"Why not?"

"Because His Majesty is a smart man. He won't need outside information to put two-and-two together. He'll figure it out, and on that day, trust me, you'll never have to worry about anything again."

"Because I'll be dead?" Jun asked honestly. Not because she felt she could do anything about it, but because she really wanted to know how long she had on this earth. Normally, at such a moment, with such a job, she'd have already made the preparations necessary to make the go-between – in this case, the man she called _Ping _– disappear, and herself along with him. Needless to say, she didn't bothering imagining that she would even survive _thinking _about such a course of action.

Ping shook his head, eyes still closed. "Oh, no; His Majesty would never strike off a head where a well-considered bag or three of gold won't get the same job done. He's efficient like that; there's a reason why he's been able to stay on top for so long."

"Well, I'm going to have to move my operations somewhere else after this job anyways. Might as well have the Royal Treasury pay the expenses."

Ping chuckled. "Might as well."

Ping continued to sit there, stretched out, relaxed. From time-to-time, he would take a sip of his whiskey, or puff on his cigar, and all that time, Jun watched him. She watched him close, through half-closed eyes, and wondered.

_Who are you?_

She didn't know, never had, and that disturbed her. She had made a career out of knowing everyone she came across, reading every man, woman, and child, moving and reacting to things her enemies hadn't even thought of doing yet. Once, she had been an eleven-year-old girl, being dragged through a muddy refugee camp by an aunt desperate to avoid having one more mouth to feed, frog-marched towards the man who was waiting to buy her, being hit every time she even _looked _like she was going to cry. What followed was pain, pain and suffering and helplessness, until the day she turned fourteen and looked at the man who owned her, saw something in his eyes, and was using it before she even knew quite was she was doing.

_Within a year, I was the senior girl. A year after that, I manipulated the man's second-in-command into slitting the man's throat. Two years after that, I carved my erstwhile savior's heart from his chest, held it before his men and all the other girls, and took a bite from it while it still beat. When I told them that they all worked for me now, no one batted an eye, or dared to argue._

She had long before had her aunt thrown to a pack of wild dogs.

She had known many men since then, men who were really boys, boys who were really men, and women, too, women who thought they were in charge and the girls who actually were. She had played them all. She fed the greedy, intimidated the cowardly, bent the weak, manipulated the strong. She did this because she knew herself, and because she knew herself, accepted herself, loved herself in spite of all the flaws and weaknesses, she knew everyone else, too.

She knew everyone.

Saw through everyone.

Understood everyone.

_Except for the man she called Ping._

She shook her head, polished off her whiskey, and poured herself another glass.

_Who are you? What are you?_

She sighed, and looked up at the fabric ceiling.

_And do I want to know?_

Somehow, that question scared her far more than the knife on the man's belt.

* * *

One of these days, I will get a handle on Kojima/Ping...or maybe I won't. Who knows? Personally, I find him more interesting this way.

For those playing the home game, calling him _Ping _is totally a shout-out to _Mulan, _one of the best Disney movies in my opinion...which is why the shitty sequel irritates me so much. There's nothing quite like a terrible sequel to a kickass original. *looks menacingly at _The Dark Knight Rises_*

Moving on...in the next chapter, Katara kicks some ass, and shows off. Stay tuned!


	81. KATARA XVI

KATARA

SHE DIDN'T STRAIN, SHE DIDN'T STRUGGLE, SHE DIDN'T FLAIL ABOUT. That would only make the rope tighter, and, in a worst case scenario, move the bindings on her wrists out of reach. Then she would have to gather more water, and this was already taking too long as it was.

No, she didn't do anything like that. She just closed her eyes, regulated her breathing, and let her fingers do the work.

She moved fast, her fingers dancing in the air behind her back. She couldn't see them, but she knew exactly what they were doing. It was like she kept telling Korra: _You don't__** have **__to see what you're doing; relying on sight only handicaps you. Better to learn your forms until you don't even have to think about them, until you can not only fight, but fight and __**win **__blind-folded. _

She wasn't blind-folded; that had been considered unfair. But she wanted a challenge, so she closed her eyes and did her work.

She felt the shard of ice forming in her hand. She hefted it, shaped it, all without moving a muscle beyond those in her hands. She sensed the bindings, analyzed their weight, their strength, their thickness. _I've seen worse, _was her judgment.

She was halfway through when the shard began to dull. She didn't let this panic her, or even _worry _her. No, she just stopped, breathed in, breathed out, melted the shard and started again.

The bindings on her wrist came apart first, but she didn't attack then. That would be stupid; she was still tied to the tree. But while the ropes that had bound her wrists were thickly tied, an intricate knot that had required real thought and planning, the rope that bound her body was alone, just waiting to be undone. She didn't bother with the shard she had formed; she dropped it, forgot about it, swung her arms around and slipped free.

She was moving before she even had time to really think about it. _Like water, water in the river, water in the ocean, water in the heart. _She hurled herself into the attack. She struck ruthlessly, again and again and again, one form after another, never the same move twice in a row. She felt the water around her. She opened her awareness as she opened her eyes, felt the world of water pulse and flow in time with the beating of her heart, the breath in her lungs, the twirling of her fingers.

_Waterbending is like a dance. _Her mother's words came to her, soft and firm. _Smooth, fluid, free, like the element that you bend. You must not constrain yourself, must not hold yourself in, must not bind yourself. Water cannot be mastered. You must become one with the water, open your mind, feel every drop that pulses through the veins of the earth, floats in the currents of the air._

The fire was coming for her, quick and fast and fierce. The level of her opponent's mastery was mindboggling. Blue fire flew fast and true; her opponent was not holding back, was not pulling her punches.

Katara allowed herself a smile. _Good. _

_I am free._

She ducked, weaved, dodged, attacked. She could feel the heat as it sliced by her face, glided over her skin.

_I am one with the water._

She danced. She flipped through the air, slid along the ground, sliced through the grass. The water surrounded her, enveloped her. It was hers to command, just as she was its.

_The water is one with me._

Fire bent and snapped and swayed and flowed and folded around her. The air was thick with steam and smoke, and it was glorious to behold.

_The water is not afraid of me._

Somewhere, people laughed and cheered and clapped and whistled. They egged them on, gloried in the dance, the coming together of the opposing elements.

_I am not afraid of the water._

She ignored the cheers, ignored the sound. All there was, was the fire, the fire and the water and her. She saw her opening. She closed her eyes and struck, even as she whispered the final part of _The Litany _with joy in her heart.

_I __**am**__ the water, and the water is me._

She didn't remember when she pulled her knife from the sheath strapped to her ankle, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that the knife was out, and pressed to her opponent's throat. She smiled, and did her best not to scream in victory.

"I believe, _Your Highness_, that the victory is mine."

Azula giggled and pointed down with her chin.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, _peasant._"

Katara looked down, and sighed. Her knife as at Azula's throat, but somehow, Azula had pressed her own knife to Katara's chest, right above her heart. Katara shook her head, clucking her tongue.

"So," she asked, in perfect seriousness, "who won?"

Azula's face turned thoughtful; Katara had no doubt that the girl was giving the matter serious thought.

"That's a good question…in a real combat situation, we'd _both _be dead, so…tie, pending a re-match?"

Katara nodded, doing nothing to contain her smile.

"Deal."

They disentangled themselves, which turned out to be easier said than done. That accomplished, they sheathed their blades, stood tall, and bowed, deep and low, holding back not an ounce of respect. With the rituals out of the way, they both burst into easy laughter, throwing arms around each other's shoulders and walking back to the others.

The others were holding nothing back; they had all broken into wild applause. Even Mai looked impressed, as revealed when her lips quirked into a thin smile and she said, in an amused tone of voice, "I have to say, that was _quite _the show. You are officially cool enough to date my childhood crush."

Katara rolled her eyes. "Well, thank the gods for _that_. I really didn't know what I was going to do without your blessing."

Mai laughed. "Keep doing what you were already doing, no doubt."

Ty Lee was _much _more satisfactorily effusive. She leaped to her feet and hurled herself into Katara and Azula's arms, kissing them both loudly on the cheeks and shrieking various versions of, _"Oh my gods that was just __**AWESOME!"**_

Katara looked to Azula for help, but Azula just gave her a look that said, _Just let her get it out of her system; trust me, it's easier that way. _So Katara grinned and bore it, until Ty Lee finally released them and went off to start doing cartwheels across the grass. Katara watched her go, not entirely sure what to think. "Is she always like that?"

"Actually," Azula replied, sounding wistful, "this is one of her more settled days. I think she stayed up too late reading a romance novel last night."

Katara wasn't entirely sure what to make of that. "Wait…this is her _calm?_"

Azula made an apologetic face. "Eh…you should ask my brother to tell you some of his _Ty Lee Stories_. He actually does a hysterical impression of her."

That, Katara didn't believe for a second. "Zuko does impressions?"

Azula giggled, reaching down and snatching a waterskin from the ground. "Oh, yeah. They're absolutely terrible; that's what makes them funny." She took a big drink of water, then passed it to Katara, who drank in her turn.

"Now _that_, I can believe." She took another big gulp, returned the skin to Azula, and flashed a smile at the final member of their party. "So, Korra, what'd you think?"

Korra was beaming; she looked a lot like a little kid after a particularly satisfying birthday. _Or me, after a night with Zuko. _She was seated by Mai, an indentation in the grass on her other side where Ty Lee had so recently been. Toph had the quarter-finals today, and Sokka had gone with the Bei Fongs to watch and cheer, which Katara and Azula had seen as a perfect chance for some bonding and training. Korra, of course, had been a bit annoyed at missing today's fight, but she seemed to be over it.

"What did I think? I thought it was awesome." She looked to Azula, her eyes ablaze. "Can you teach _me _to shoot blue flames?"

Azula shrugged. "Absolutely. It's hard work, though, and not everyone gets to that level."

"Not even Avatars?" Korra asked, sounding disappointed.

Azula laughed. "I don't see why not. Come on," she continued, reaching out her hand, "why don't I show you how it's done? It's actually pretty interesting, how it all works."

Korra took the proffered hand and rose, walking with the princess back out onto the practice field (which, Katara noticed, was definitely looking the worse for wear these days). "Can we work on that move you were showing me yesterday, the one with the whips and stuff?"

"I don't see why not."

Watching them go, Katara heaved a happy sigh and settled herself down next to Mai. Katara wracked her brain, and couldn't come up with a time when she had felt better, happier, more relaxed. She had fought to a tie someone to whom she wouldn't have minded losing, her brother was smiling and having fun again, the girl she thought of as her daughter was starting to enjoy being the Avatar once more, she liked a boy, the boy liked her, they'd spent some very satisfying times with each other…

She turned to Mai, who was busy picking her nails with a very sharp-looking knife. _I even managed to make some new friends. _So, yeah, as far as Katara was concerned, life was good.

"Did you really mean that?" she asked.

Mai paused in her nail-cleaning, turned to Katara with a thoughtful look on her face. "Mean what?"

"That you consider me cool enough to date Zuko."

Mai rolled her eyes. "I was just being silly. You two are grown adults, and you don't need _my _permission."

Katara shrugged. "Yeah, but it makes me feel better knowing you're okay with it."

Mai shrugged, picked up the wine bottle they had brought with them, and poured herself a third-of-a-glass. "I won't lie and say that I'm _happy_, but yeah, I'm okay with it. But enough about boys, because I'm just _dying _to know, and trust me, this isn't just a subject change: _How in the hell did you get out of those ropes?_"

"Before you get sad," Katara replied, taking the wine bottle when Mai offered it and pouring herself a couple sips, "I have to say: I have _never _encountered knots like the ones you and Ty whipped out on me."

"Blame Ty," Mai said. "She thinks that the more complicated the knot, the prettier it is. It's…like…an artistic thing for her."

Out on the field, Azula was critiquing and perfecting Korra's form, while Ty Lee continued to do cartwheels around them. "A lot of things are, it seems."

"You have _no _idea. But yeah, how did you pull that off? You had no water."

"Oh, there's always water. To get into detail, though, requires me to get technical. You mind?"

Mai scoffed. "I'm best friends with the best firebender on the planet, and I used to have a crush on a dork who read firebending treatises for fun. _Trust me_, I can endure technical just fine."

Katara extended a finger over her glass, and watched as the wine swirled around with her movements. "Well, in that case…"

Mai popped an eyebrow. "You're totally about to show off, aren't you."

"What, you thought my brother came by that habit on his own? _Please."_

Mai giggled, a sound that Katara wasn't entirely sure what to do with, even as she admitted that she liked it. "I can imagine. But please, as you were saying."

"Right. Well…"

* * *

In case you missed it, that was my little homage to the scene that started Zutara: Katara getting tied to a tree. I rather like this version, to tell you the truth.

I also really like getting into some of the philosophy and mechanics of bending. In my mind, it's a lot like the Force, or, at least, the Force of the OS, not the prequels that don't exist. That being, it's a very mystical kind of thing, but mystical in a real, tangible sense, not pseudo-Zen, Portland hipster bullshit. Plus, bending is very ingrained in the cultures and societies of this world; I imagine that there's all kinds of litanies and treatises and crap that have stuck to it over the years.

But I digress. In the next chapter, Zuko gets shirtless. Stay tuned!


	82. ZUKO XVIII

ZUKO

THE DAY HAD ENDED, BUT THAT DIDN'T MEAN HIS WORK AS AN OFFICER HAD. There was still a seemingly never-ending list of things to do. There was paperwork to fill out and turn in, minor issues to deal with, a solider on sick call to check on, bullshitting with his fellow officers to accomplish, teasing of Toru as he and his platoon marched out for night duty to enjoy, and now, a firebending drill.

Night was gathering, but that didn't mean that Zuko and his boys couldn't train. If anything, the fact that the sun was going down just made it easier; that little bit of missing power made accidents less likely to happen.

_And besides_, as he often reminded his boys when he walked them through evening drills, _the fact that firebenders rise and fall with the sun isn't a state secret; if you know it, those who want to kill you do, too._

He had originally intended only to drill his own platoon's firebenders, but the Captain had decided that it was a good opportunity to drill the other two platoons' compliments as well. Zuko hadn't argued, partly because he enjoyed the responsibility, and partly because…well…

_He __**is **__giving me the day off tomorrow…_

Which, sure, put him in a good mood, no doubt about that, but he still wasn't happy with what he was seeing.

_"Stop!"_

The boys stopped immediately, halfway through their forms. Zuko shook his head, storming over to the end of the first of the three lines. He bent down, examined the poses, and, sure enough…

_Someone's out of step._

He marched down the line, shouting, "Everyone but Yamashita, _at ease!_"

The boys snapped to attention, while Corporal Yamashita did his best to not look up in fright at Zuko's approach. Zuko reached the boy, pulled him out of the line. "Attention, Corporal!" The boy snapped to it, and Zuko gave him a hard look, up and down.

"You're one of Lieutenant Hideki's boys, are you not?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"How long have you been with the Regiment?"

"A year, sir!"

"So, you're…what…nineteen?"

"Just turned twenty, sir!"

Zuko nodded. "Alright then. Have you seen action?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Hmm…" Zuko adopted a thoughtful pose, one arm wrapped around his torso, an elbow propped on said arm, the hand of said elbow slowly rubbing his chin. "Then, you're aware of how important control and precision is in combat firebending?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Explain it to me."

The soldier gave a quick bow before responding. Zuko didn't smile, but he approved; he was always glad to see that the other platoons were as well-disciplined as his was.

"Combat conditions are chaotic and messy, sir! If one's movements are not precise and controlled, then one runs the risk of doing as much damage to one's own side as to the enemy, sir! An uncontrolled, undisciplined firebender can destroy an entire combat formation, sir!"

Zuko nodded. "Impressive." He meant it; the boy had rattled off every word of what he had been taught in Basic. "Then, explain to me, if you don't mind, why yours was the only form that was out of sync with the rest of the company."

The boy didn't hesitate; he bowed, and, while bowed, said, "There is no excuse, sir! I missed the count and stepped off a beat late, sir! Instead of following my training, I tried to make up for it and catch up, sir!"

Zuko allowed himself a smile. "Rise, Corporal." The soldier rose, and Zuko clapped him on the shoulder. "That's _exactly _what I was going to say to you, which is why you just narrowly avoided the chewing out you were about to get. Congratulations, Corporal; you'll live to fight another day."

The boy did nothing to hide his relief; Zuko's firebending drills were infamously tough and unforgiving. "It won't happen again, sir!"

Zuko let go of the boy's shoulder and stepped back. "See that it doesn't; I won't be so merciful next time. Back into line."

The boy bowed, and stepped into his position. Zuko returned to the front of the class and bellowed, "_Attention!"_

They snapped to attention. Zuko cast a critical eye over them, nodded, and shouted, _"Assume Form Thirteen!"_

As one, they all dropped into the first pose of the named form. Zuko dropped with them; they weren't bending fire yet, only practicing forms, so he faced them. As they all dropped into the pose, they screamed, as one, "_THIRTEEN!"_

He saw everything, missed nothing. _So far, so good. _"One, two, three, _**move!"**_

The class moved as one, pose-to-pose-to-pose, snapping with perfect, well-oiled precision. Each time they moved, they screamed, a strange, wordless bellow that, in large numbers, sounded a lot like, _Ha! _It was, Zuko had to admit, his heart swelling with pride, an awe-inspiring sound, accompanied by an awe-inspiring sight.

At the end of the sequence, Zuko could find nothing to fault. Everyone was flawless, and he couldn't be more pleased.

_Not that I'll admit that. _Instead, he bellowed, "_Better! Again!"_

They worked for at least another hour, ending with live fire drills. The Captain came out to watch, and showed his approval with a nod and something akin to a smile, since he was on duty, and, thus, smiling was forbidden. When it was all over, Zuko and the troops bowed to each other, he thanked them, told them they had done excellent work and should be proud of themselves, then dismissed them for dinner, an announcement they greeted with raucous, unrestrained cheers.

Grabbing a towel that one of the orderlies had brought him, Zuko moved over to the Captain, drying his skin and his hair. Reaching the Captain, he tossed the towel over his shoulders and bowed. "Evening, sir."

The Captain bowed back. "Evening, Lieutenant. Everything to your satisfaction?"

Zuko looked back at the boys, who were already laughing and relaxed, and could only nod. "Actually, sir, I have to admit…it went very well. Even the newer recruits have fallen into line."

The Captain nodded, pursing his lips in thought. "I'm glad to hear it. Excellent work out there, by the way."

_Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush… _"Thank you, sir. I learned from the best."

The Captain rolled his eyes. "Flattery will get you everywhere, young man. And," he pointed behind Zuko, towards the end of what had once been an earthbending practice field, "if I'm not mistaken, you have visitors."

Zuko turned to look, and was surprised to see, not just Katara, but also the girl Korra, leaning against a fence, watching the show. Korra was waving at him as he saw them, while Katara…well…as for Katara, the look she was giving him, and the way she was biting her lip, was making him wish she hadn't brought the girl.

He turned back to the Captain. "It appears I do, sir." He bowed. "If there's nothing else…"

The Captain waved him off. "Don't let me stop you, Lieutenant. Remember: Evening briefing in one hour."

"Of course, sir." Thus dismissed, he was off.

They waited for him at the fence, Korra chattering away at Katara the entire time, and Katara seeming to have eyes only for him. He fought down his blush, fought down his discomfort, and, he hoped, fought down any glimmers of dorkiness.

_Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool…_

When he reached them, he gave a little bow, which they returned. "Evening, ladies," he said, placing one foot on the bottom rung of the fence and leaning onto the top, doing his best to imitate the cool pose Sokka had tried to teach him the week before. "How are you doing this evening?"

Katara did nothing to hide the fact that she was checking him out. "Oh, I'm doing just _fine_, Lieutenant. In fact, I'm considering forbidding you from ever wearing a shirt in my presence again."

Beside her, Korra gagged, and made a very amusing face. "Ugh, _Katara_, do you _mind?_" _Ugh, __**Mom**__, can you, like, __**not **__embarrass me? _It was very hard not to laugh, but somehow, Zuko managed.

"I dunno," Katara replied, "do you, Zuko?"

Zuko, for his part, was trying to keep his good eye from wandering too blatantly, so he admitted, "Not in the least, my dear."

Korra rolled her eyes, while Katara bit her lip and threw him a wink.

_Don't blush, play it cool, don't gulp, play it cool, you're doing great, play it cool…_

"Well," Katara said, very slowly tucking some hair behind her ear in the way he knew she was fully aware drove him crazy, "as much fun as flirting with you and embarrassing Korra is, we are here for a specific reason."

"Oh?" Zuko asked.

"Indeed." Katara gave Korra a sharp nudge. "Korra…?"

Korra didn't roll her eyes or make a face. Instead, to Zuko's consternation, she hopped over the fence, stood before him, a solemn look on her face, and gave a picture-perfect Fire Nation bow.

"Lieutenant Tokugawa, I just wanted to offer my apologies. The last time we met, I was very rude to you, and that was wrong of me. You were right, and I was wrong, and if hadn't been for you, who knows what might of happened. So, thank you, and, again, please accept my humblest apologies."

For a moment, Zuko didn't have a clue what to do or say. He stared, mouth open, eye wide. It was a sincere, genuine, heartfelt apology, from a high-spirited, very proud fifteen-year-old. Zuko tried to believe that he would've been capable of such an act at the same age, and just couldn't quite get himself there. He was floored, moved, and touched.

Recovering himself, he returned the bow. "Your apology is accepted, my lady." He rose. "I humbly request that we forget all about it; what is past, is past."

She gave him a curious look. "Is that some kind of ritual response?"

He chuckled, relaxing back into what he hoped was his _cool pose _on the fence. "As a matter of fact, it is."

"You people have rituals for _everything_," Katara observed.

He shrugged. "I'm afraid I can't dispute that. In our defense, when any slight can lead to a vicious firebending duel, it's best to cover as many bases as possible."

"Fair enough. So," Katara continued, twirling some hair between her fingers, "Korra and I were wondering if we could join you for dinner."

Zuko pondered. "Hmm…I don't see why not. Go ahead and take her to my room, and I'll have some food brought up."

"Excellent! We'll meet you there!"

"And…can you put on a shirt?" Korra asked, looking hopeful.

Katara put on a sad face. "Does he have to?"

Korra looked up with big, pleading eyes. "_Please…?"_

Katara huffed. "Ugh, _fine. _Let this be a reminder of how much I love you."

Zuko didn't quite know what to make of the look that came over the girl he knew to be the Avatar's face, but he knew enough about such looks to offer a quick prayer to the gods that, if he ever lived long enough to have children, they would look the same way, every day.

* * *

The wife pointed out that I hadn't made fully clear that Zuko's still a firebender, so, this chapter, at least in part, proves that he is, and a pretty good one, too. Not nearly as good as sister, but good. I also wanted to get a bit into what combat bending would be like, and how the training for it would go. I imagine that any military, but especially the Fire Nation military (since hurling fire around the battlefield is kind of its _thing), _would put a lot of time and effort into making sure bending was utilized safely and effectively on the battlefield.

Also, just a random digression: How do I see the roll of benders (sorry, Brits reading this) on the battlefield? Mostly, I imagine, to combat the opposition's benders, as much as anything else. The firebenders fight off earthbending attacks, and vice versa, so the regular troops can operate, maintain their formations, and close for combat. In my mind, all combat officers will be benders, and probably about...oh...a fifth or so of the ranks, in combat units, at least. Support and rear-area units probably have much fewer benders in their ranks. In my mind, the populations in general are probably about, oh, a fifth or so of benders, sometimes a bit more, sometimes a bit less. That's how the show reads, at least, and I feel that's pretty realistic.

In this fic, by the way, the Air Nomads have the same proportions. Why wouldn't they?

But, like I said, I'm digressing. _Enough of that. _In the next chapter, which you'll get tomorrow, Toph fights through an attack of nerves before her final fight, and Korra helps her, though _not like that. _At least..._not yet. _;-) Stay tuned!


	83. TOPH IV

TOPH

SHE WAS SCARED. That was not the new thing, the frightening thing. She had been scared before; after all, she was only human. The first time she had realized the was blind, that it wasn't normal, that she would never see her mother's face or see the colors of the sunset, she had been scared. The first time she had stumbled over something she couldn't see, she had been scared. The first time she had bent the earth, she had been scared. The day a badger-mole leaned close enough to bite her face off and had, instead, licked it, she had been scared. The night before her first fight, her first _real _fight, the year before, she had been scared.

No, she had been scared before. But this was new, this was different. This time, she wasn't just scared.

_ She was admitting to herself that she was scared._

_ The Boulder. _She said it to herself, over and over again, like a prayer, a litany against fear. _The Boulder. _She ran over the facts, the figures, the things her father's investigators had learned. _His name is Pan Feng. He fought with distinction for the Imperial Army during the War. He was decorated for bravery during the final Siege of Ba Sing Se. The future Fire Lord himself acknowledged his skill and courage, secured the man's parole himself. He has a wife and a family he's devoted to. His stage persona is dumb, unintelligent, slightly whack-brained, but it's all an act. He hasn't lost a fight in ten years. He trains like a madman. He sponsors poor children to get them into the Occupation-approved earthbending schools. It's suspected that he donates money to the Resistance, but no one can prove it. He once fought an exhibition match at the Palace in Miyako before the Fire Nation court. He…_

She shook her head. _Stop it. It's just a fight. You can beat him. You can beat anybody. You're Toph._

Yes, she was Toph. Yes, she could beat him. Yes, it was just a fight. But it wasn't, was it?

It was _The Fight_, the fight she had been preparing herself for all her life. This was the fight she wanted, the fight she had dreamed of. This was the match that she had cited when she convinced her parents to allow her to start competing in the tournaments. This was what she had hungered for since the first day she had met a man who called himself _The Boulder._

_ The Boulder…_

She sighed. _Yeah, I'm fucking scared. So what? It's only natural…_

_ Only natural…_

_ Right…?_

She was in what was jokingly called _The Green Room_, where fighters waited before they were summoned out into the ring. What the joke was, she had no idea. No one had ever explained it to her, and she had never bothered to ask. Outside, through closed doors, the roar of the crowd echoed, filtered through the wood, vibrated the earth. She reached down, down into the earth, stretched her consciousness, bent her awareness until she was at one with the dirt between her toes.

_The earth. The earth isn't scared. The earth is __**never**__ scared. If it isn't scared, then I shouldn't fucking be either, now, should I?_

But that was the thing. The earth wasn't fighting today. The earth wouldn't take sides. It had stood with her all through the tournament, through flawless victory after flawless victory, but this was the final now. _The final fight. __**Her **__final fight. _After today, the tournament would be over. The soldiers would leave and she would take Korra out every day and they would train and train and train. She would work with Azula and Katara and Lobsang, and they would craft a girl not six months younger than she was into a weapon to aim at the Fire Lords and save the world. At some point, they would leave. They would go somewhere else. They would move around.

_I might never see my parents again._

So, yeah, she was scared. Scared of the fight, scared of the future, and scared of whether or not she would ever step through her own front doors again.

"Hey, Toph…?"

She had shut herself away from the world, drowned out everything but the earth and her own thoughts. She jumped in surprise. She hadn't expected anyone to come see her. Other fighters might receive visits from friends and relatives and loved ones and sponsors when _they _were in the Green Room, but she never did. She had forbidden it. And yet…

_This is one person I'm kind of glad to hear…_

"Hey, Korra. How's it going?"

Toph didn't know where she was. The girl could be standing right in front of her, for all she knew. She had shut herself off from the world, and she refused to open herself back up. _I'm in the fucking zone…_

_ But that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to hear her voice…_

"Heh…shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"What on earth would you ask me that? I'm fucking peachy keen. Same answer today as yesterday. How about you?"

"I'm just worried about you."

She scoffed. "Psh. Why?"

"Well, because you're scared."

For a moment, Toph thought about lying. About throwing down her bravado, putting on her brave face, flashing a smile and a pose and pretending everything was alright.

She didn't. It would be a long time before she figured out why.

"Yeah…I am…"

"It's okay. I'm scared, too. Probably of some of the same things."

Toph couldn't help but smile. "Oh, I'm sure you have _much _better things to be scared of than some stupid fight."

Toph could've sworn she heard a frown and a huff. Not for the first time, she wondered if Korra knew just how much she was like her _real _mom.

"I doubt you're scared of only that, but nevermind. Point is, it's not a stupid fight."

"Heh, we all know it's a stupid fucking fight and a stupid fucking thing to be worked up over."

"Does it matter to you?"

Again, Toph thought about lying, about maintaining her cool, about maintaining her composure, about maintaining her reputation. But somehow…_she knew she was safe. _That this girl would keep her secrets, that she wouldn't tell anyone she'd been scared.

"It matters the _world _to me."

"Then it's not stupid. It's awesome and amazing and you're going to go out there and kick that guy's ass. It'll be your crowning achievement and if you ever have grandchildren, you'll tell them about this day."

Toph scoffed. "I think we both know that children aren't in the cards for me."

"And, what, you'd never adopt? But whatever, forget all that. _I'm _rooting for you, and if you don't go out there and win, you're officially fired as my earthbending instructor."

Toph whipped out her strongest, most eloquent scoff, one she only used for special occasions. "_Please. _A hoard of armadillo-lions couldn't stop me from teaching you."

"And it's just that very attitude that is the reason why you're going to win."

"Yeah…it is, isn't it?"

A hand appeared out of the darkness, resting on her shoulder. The hand squeezed, and Toph reached up before she knew what she was doing and she squeezed it back. A moment passed, a moment neither one of the teenagers in that room fully understood, then the hand fell away and they were both coughing and chuckling it all away.

"Yes, it is. Now go out there and do what you do, and…um…Toph?"

Toph laughed. "Don't worry, I won't tell Katara that you said _ass._"

"Heh…thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Don't worry, I won't."

Toph wasn't expecting the hug, but once it was happening, she knew it was exactly what she needed, exactly what she wanted. It was a wonderful hug, possibly the best she'd ever gotten, and she returned it in a way she never would if anyone was watching. Then Korra was pulling away, whispering _good luck _one more time, and she was gone.

Toph smiled. She wasn't scared anymore. The horns sounded and the doors opened and the crowd roared and she was happier than she ever been before.

_I got this._

The Boulder never stood a chance.

* * *

In the show, all of Toph's opponents are stupid and useless, because it's a kid's show, and that's how these things work. I know I give the show shit sometimes (okay, _all the time, _but still), but I understand why it was the way it was (except for that last, final scene, which I'm _still _annoyed at), and I'm cool with it.

This fic, though? _This ain't no kid's show. _So, _somebody _had to be a worthy opponent, and I picked the Boulder, because he had the least idiotic fight name. Also, he just looks like a stand-up guy, when he shows up for the Day of the Black Sun. But I digress...

Also, was that ship-teasing, at least partially aimed at the lovely Lady Kaelyn? What? That's _crazy..._

_*shifty eyes*_

Moving on! In the next chapter, everyone has, I think an appropriate reaction to Toph kicking ass. Stay tuned!


	84. ZUKO XIX

ZUKO

HE DIDN'T QUITE KNOW WHAT HE WAS WATCHING, BUT HE KNEW IT WAS AMAZING. He had never seen anything like it. Two fighters, both at the top of their game, both amazingly talented, threw everything they had at each other. Attacks, counters, thrusts, parries, came at a blistering speed, so fast he could barely keep track. It was like watching the most intricate, awe-inspiring, complicated ballet that humanity had ever conceived of.

It was, in a word, _fucking awesome._

When it finished, the entire stadium, even those who had shouted the Boulder's name until they were blue in the face, stood up and went wild. The cheering went on and on and on. Flowers and coins and, from what Zuko could see, more than a few panties were hurled onto the field. It was deafening, and it seemed like it was never going to end. It grew louder and louder, and then broke its own bounds into a whole new level of hysteria when, after she helped him to his feet, the Boulder hoisted Toph onto his shoulders and carried her around the ring, pumping his fist into the air, revving the crowd into ever higher states of frenzy.

That's when the chanting started.

_"Blind Bandit! Blind Bandit! __**Blind Bandit! BLIND BANDIT!"**_

Zuko joined in without hesitation, pumping his fist in the air and screaming with everyone else. Beside him, Katara pumped her own fist in the air, cheering with wild abandon, while with her other hand, she clasped his free hand in a death grip, the same death grip she had had it in for the entire half-hour the fight had lasted. Down by the railing, Sokka had put Korra on his shoulders so she could scream even louder, while Lao whistled and shouted at his daughter and Jiayi couldn't stop crying. The servants and guards were all screaming and hollering and clapping and hugging and kissing, and it was like all the birthdays that ever were and ever would be, all wrapped up into one.

Finally, everyone began to calm down, and by calm down, Zuko, of course, meant that they slumped into their chairs because it was physically impossible to cheer anymore. Korra swooned, looking she was going to faint, and Sokka didn't look much better. Lao and Jiayi (who was still crying) were inviting everyone to a celebratory bash at the mansion, Lao making absolutely sure that Zuko knew that he was not just included, but _required _to come. Katara finally let go of his hand, but not because either of them were tired of her holding it like it was her lifeline to reality. No, she only let go after shooting him a look that made his heart race, then dashing up to Jiayi. They had a whispered conversation, Jiayi handed Katara something, and then Katara was coming back.

For some reason, Zuko kept his eye on Jiayi, which was why he caught it when she threw him a sly wink and he was pretty sure he blushed like a schoolboy.

Katara was pulling him to his feet. "Come on, we have to hurry if we want to hitch a ride with everybody."

Zuko was very confused. "Huh? What's going on?"

She had already yanked him halfway to the entrance to the private box. "I asked Jiayi if there was place you and I could go to celebrate the victory…you know…_on our own._"

"Oh." His blush got even worse, and he really hoped nobody noticed the fact that he stumbled as he processed that information. "Um…really? What did she say?"

Katara threw him a look that made his heart stop. "Officially, she informed me that, here in Gaoling, they take their moral and social values very seriously, and such acts between unmarried individuals in such circumstances are not just frowned upon, but actually illegal."

His heart started beating again, just long enough to sink in disappointment. "Oh…and unofficially?"

She giggled, and pressed herself very close to him as they slipped out the door. "Unofficially," she said, pulling out a key, "she informed me that the Bei Fong private bathroom is just out this door, to our left, and a few feet down the hall."

Before he could come up with answer to that, they had reached said bathroom. Without waiting for him to say _yea _or _nay_ or even _do you think anyone will notice_, she had unlocked the door, shoved him in, and leaped on top of him, slamming the door behind her.

He never could remember whether they remembered to lock it or not.

* * *

I once got a private message during, I believe, the writing of _Wild, Wild Love, _berating me for assuming that these societies would have the same liberal attitudes towards premarital shenanigans that many modern societies do. To them, I replied by relating a joke the priest who ran my Catechism classes told us: _We used to have a saying, back when I was a kid, that the first baby was a Miracle Baby, in that it could arrive at any time, fully developed. _In short: We didn't invent this stuff, it's just that, for all of human history, for every crazed Morality Policeman, there has been someone winking and/or rolling their eyes.

Because people are the same, guys, no matter where you go.

But I digress. In the next chapter, we check in with Azula, and I make my veteran readers even more nervous than they already are. Stay tuned!


	85. AZULA IV

AZULA

IT WAS A LONG TIME BEFORE THEY FINALLY CAME DOWN FROM THE HIGH LEFT BY THE FIGHT. They had watched it from one of the boxes reserved for Fire Nation nobility, clutching each other's hands and living and dying with every ebb and flow. When it was over, all three reacted in manners fit for their personalities. Ty Lee screeched, swooned, and fainted, Mai shook her head, speechless in her amazement, and Azula?

It's probably best to just say that the blistering stream of happy obscenities turned more than a few ears red.

Ty Lee still hadn't fully recovered when they finally made their way back to their palanquin. Azula, in her role as the servant Shizuka, took the lead in carrying her friend out into the sunshine and loading her into the palanquin. She was just helping Mai in and preparing to follow when a young, well-bred voice asked, "Is everything alright, my lady?"

Azula turned and found herself confronted by a very young, incredibly scrawny officer whom she didn't really recognize. She came perilously close to snapping, "My idiot friend got a little too excited, not that it's any of your fucking business," before she remembered who she was supposed to be. Giving him a low, respectful bow, she said, "My mistress's friend bet a lot of money on the Boulder. I'm afraid it will be some time before she recovers." _Not that Ty Lee would ever gamble_, she thought, but didn't say.

The officer made a very sympathetic face. "I know how she feels; I just lost a month's pay."

For a moment, she was caught between curiosity and awareness of her assumed station. She struggled, but, in the end, as it so often did, curiosity won out. _Zuko's right; my mouth really is going to get me killed one of these days. _"Oh, my lord?"

He seemed highly amused at being called _my lord_. "Oh, I'm no lord, ma'am, just a merchant's son." He bowed his head. "Lieutenant Mishima Ryu, and might I say, you are looking lovely today. The prettiest girl at the fair, by far."

_That's your best shot? Work on your lines, buddy. _She bowed. "A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant. My name is Shizuka."

He smiled. "_Shizuka_…what a lovely name. Perfect for a lovely lady."

From inside, Mai cleared her throat and commanded in her most imperious voice, "_Shizuka_, if you're quite done flirting with the young man, _who I'm sure has better things to be doing, _I'm afraid it's time to go. I would like to get my shopping done before the riff-raff flood the stores."

Shizuka bowed to the palanquin. "Yes, my lady." Turning to the soldier, she bowed once more. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but duty calls."

He sighed. "Doesn't it always?" He gave another bow, far deeper than he needed to. "I pray I see you again, my lady. Enjoy your day."

In spite of the fact that she was not in the least impressed by the boy's flirtation skills, Azula couldn't help but feel a bit flustered. _Gods, I need to get out more. _"You, as well, sir. But…before you go…" _Damned curiosity… _"Who did you lose the bet to?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "The other officers in my company." He sighed. "When Zuko said the Blind Bandit was the one to bet on, I figured he was just indulging his girlfriend, who's staying at the estate, you know? So, I challenged him on it, but the others took his side, and, well-"

"_Shizuka._"

"Coming, my lady. Sorry, Lieutenant…?"

"Mishima, my lady. Mishima Ryu." Another bow, and a wink. "Good day, my lady."

Mai waited until they were on their way before cracking a smile. "I _so _can't wait to tell Ty all of that when she wakes up."

Azula flipped her the bird as she lit a cigarette. "Kiss me ass, Mai, which you will definitely end up doing if you squeal."

Mai mulled it over for a moment, before allowing her smile to turn into a predatory sneer. "Oh, I think I'll risk it."

Azula kicked her. "Oh, trust me, _you'll pay."_

_ "Bring it."_

They burst into what Azula felt were exquisite giggles. Still laughing, she slumped back in her seat, feeling worn out, satisfied, and very, very happy.

_It's nice to have friends. Who needs a Palace when you've got friends?_

* * *

Fun Fact: Not long ago, I asked my wife which of Zuko's fellow officers was her favorite. She responded by saying it was a complicated answer, made more complicated by the fact that her brain keeps trying to keep her from learning their names, because, and I quote, _I don't fucking trust you._

You really shouldn't.

For those playing the home game, her favorites are: Toru, overall, just for being a good guy, and her heart goes out to him; Tsurukawa, because his obscenity-laden speech makes her laugh; Yukawa, because she just has this mental image of him that makes want to have a drink with the guy; and, last but not least, Ryu, because he's just _a good kid. _

Personally, my favorite is Tsurukawa, because that's basically how I talk, only cleaner.

In the next chapter, the Krew (I'm stealing that) celebrates, and Zuko tells a story. Stay tuned!


	86. KATARA XVII

KATARA

THAT NIGHT, NOBODY WENT TO THE ROOF. Instead, they all gathered together as much booze and food as they could carry and raced out into the night, giggling and acting like loons. They made straight for what Lao and Jiayi had called _The Reading Tree_, where they settled into a loose circle. Sokka and Korra ran off at some point, and returned with two armfuls of wood. Toph bent a shallow dip into the ground, and Zuko, to Katara's delight, made a big production of setting it all on fire.

After that, they just…_sat. _Everyone was very happy, and very relaxed. Night was falling, and the stars were coming out. At one point, Korra and Sokka started singing tribal songs, while Toph lay on her belly, kicking her bare feet back and forth in the air, listening with a smile on her face. Katara and Zuko snuggled very close together, his arm around her, her head buried deep into his chest, while they pointed up at the stars and told each other their nations' names for the constellations.

Lobsang had been with them at one point, dragged outside by Korra, but he had beat a hasty retreat when Sokka cracked open the second bottle of booze. Katara was in such a good mood, she didn't even stop Korra from drinking, though she _did _regulate the pace and amount, like any good mother would. No reason for them _all _to be hungover in the morning, she reasoned.

At some point, they started telling stories. Any story at all, really. Toph told them the tale of Oma and Shu, only, in Toph's telling, it was marvelously obscene and required many impromptu music performances. Korra told the story of how the Northern Water Tribe broke away from the Southern, and how whatever the Northerners said otherwise was a silly lie. Sokka sang a song none of them had ever heard before, about a beautiful girl who lived in the moon, and all the fun things she did to pass the time until the moment came for her to rise upon the world again. It was very beautiful, and even Toph had tears in her eyes by the end.

Katara's story was all about how waterbending was discovered and mastered, complete with appropriate demonstrations, while Zuko recited, from memory, with different voices and scenes acted out with Sokka's willing participation, the classic Fire Nation play _Love Amongst the Dragons_. Korra thought it was cute, Toph thought it was dumb, but Katara?

Katara burst into tears at the end, threw her heart into her applause, and landed a kiss on Zuko that made everyone gag even as they smiled.

Katara was never entirely sure how the question came up. She was floating on a cloud, blissfully happy. She was stretched out on the grass, her head in Zuko's lap, while he played with her hair and she formed little puffs of mist in the air and drew shapes with them. Zuko and Sokka were engaged in some sort of deep, philosophical conversation about something not the least bit important, while Korra had somehow convinced Toph to let her play around with the girl's hair.

Later, Katara would decide that it didn't matter how the question came to be asked. In the end, when she and Zuko laid in her bed that night, wrapped up in each other and nothing else, they talked, and decided that they were both glad that it had. It needed to come up, needed to be asked, needed to be answered. It was the last, final barrier between the former prince and the Company of the Avatar, and that barrier desperately needed to go down.

A month later, Katara would thank the gods that that barrier was gone, going back on her promise to herself to never earnestly thank the gods again.

Characteristically, it was Toph who asked. Pursing her lips in thought, eyes closed, obviously enjoying the feeling of Korra's fingers in her hair (even if Katara doubted very much if the girl would ever admit it), she asked, in all innocence, "Hey, Sparky?"

Zuko stopped in mid-sentence and turned from his conversation with Sokka. "Yes, Toph?"

"Can I ask you a question? And it's cool, you don't have to answer it, I just want to know."

Katara instantly saw where this was headed. It was one of her greatest fears then, even if she hadn't realized that was so until it happened. She started to sit up, to try and see if she could silence Toph with a glare, certain she could pull it off.

Zuko stopped her. He grabbed her hand and laid her head back in his lap. He resumed playing with her hair and gave her a smile that melted her heart. "It's alright," he whispered, "it had to be addressed sometime."

She frowned; she was far from convinced. "Are you sure?"

He leaned down and kissed her softly on the forehead. "I'm sure. Just…don't let go of my hand, okay?"

She squeezed his hand. _Hard. _"Not tonight."

He chuckled, his lips still against her forehead. The sensation sent shivers up and down her spine. "I know." Then he rose, and sighed, and said, "Let me guess, Toph: You want to know if I really have this big scar everyone keeps talking about, and how it got there."

Toph shrugged, and, to Katara's shock, looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I mean…if you don't mind…Korra already told me about it, Sokka, too, and trust me, I know it's none of my business…"

She trailed off, and Katara realized that she hadn't heard the girl drop a f-bomb for a good hour. _The wonders never cease. _

Zuko sighed once more, deep and long and heavy. "No, it's okay; you guys had to find out sometime. Just, promise me one thing, okay, everybody? No one's allowed to get sad. It's a painful story, but it's not a sad one, I promise. It had to happen eventually, and, at the end of the day, I'm glad it did." He laughed, a bit of a painful sound, and rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward in the way that never failed to make Katara swoon. "I mean, sure, I'd like it if it hadn't happened _quite _the way it did, but, it's all turned out for the best."

There was a long pause, while he gathered his strength. All leaned forward. Korra stopped playing with Toph's hair. Sokka scooched over, resting a hand on Zuko's shoulder. In the middle of the gathering, the fire crackled, hissed, popped.

And then Zuko began to speak.

Katara closed her eyes. She had heard it all before, and she tried not to hear it all again. It hurt too much. The first time, it had given her nightmares. She had been angry and lost and bewildered. The idea that anyone could do that…anyone could _deal with that_…just…she didn't know what to think. It made all of her pains and heartaches and sufferings seem trivial by comparison, which she knew was stupid and dumb, because she only felt that way because she liked him so much, but, _gods-dammit_, that was just how she felt.

_So sue me._

But even when she closed her eyes, she couldn't escape it. She saw it, playing out before her, just like when he had told her the first time.

She saw a young boy, barely eighteen, fresh from the Academy, desperate to do his duty. He all but got on his hands and knees before his uncle, _his king_, begging to be allowed into the Army, begging to go serve in the frontlines like his friends. His friends were going, and even though he didn't want to die, didn't want to kill, didn't believe in the War or what it was trying to accomplish…well…

_He was only eighteen, and he didn't want to be left behind…_

His uncle said he would think about it. His uncle offered him staff positions. Zuko refused, stood firm, demanded to serve on the frontlines, like his uncle, the Fire Lord, had. But there were political considerations. Zuko's father, the person Katara only thought of as _that rat-bastard Ozai_, had spent his National Service in the Fire Nation, and never drew a sword in anger. Despite that, he had managed to become the figurehead of the court's faction of hardliners, radicals, and fanatics. They clustered about him, and supported his position that, to send Zuko to the frontlines, where he might be killed, was an insult, a veiled threat against Ozai and those he thought he controlled.

The Fire Lord, though, was sympathetic to Zuko. To show him that staff work wasn't so bad, he assigned the boy to a few councils, very junior, of course, _but still. _Zuko hated it, but he threw his heart into it, as he did into everything, even…well…_even the one council that his father was allowed to chair, on the management of prisons._

It had only been a month when Ozai came up with his mad plan. Where it came from, nobody knew. The prisons were over-crowded. The Fire Lord had asked for a solution, was letting his brother think he was in charge of it. So Ozai got drunk one day and announced that he would move for every foreign-born prisoner to be executed, and every prisoner with foreign-born parents. _That _would clear up space, and then, the crackdown on dissent that he had been advocating and that the Fire Lord had been resisting could go forward. He was going to make a big presentation, make a fuss, and he had just enough of the hardliners behind him to have a chance of getting it through.

Zuko was horrified. Zuko was still a young man. He had few illusions, but he still believed in the Fire Nation, believed in its honor and traditions, believed that his uncle really did want to guide the Fire Nation as close to that ideal as possible. He asked for the right to make a speech to the council, and his father agreed, no doubt assuming it would be in his favor. Zuko spent a week preparing, not sleeping, he and his sister running to-and-fro, getting every little detail right.

The last bit relied on his cousin. He convinced the Crown Prince of the rightness of his cause, extracted a promise from his cousin that he would be at the meeting. His cousin wouldn't have to speak; all he had to do was sit by Zuko, nod through the speech, and maybe clap a little when it was done. That would kill it. That would end it. Ozai's mad plan would end.

_But then, on the day, Yoshihito wasn't there._

This was always the moment when Katara came to hate Zuko's family. She hated them and despised them, loathed them with every fiber of her being. _How could they do that? _She didn't know. _How could his cousin just leave him hanging like that? _She didn't understand it.

Zuko knew he should've stopped. Zuko knew he should've tried again another day. But he couldn't. He stood, got out his boards, his posters, his notes, and began to speak. He had been allotted a half-hour, and he intended to use every second.

He only made it to seven minutes.

He never saw the fire, never remembered his father's screams of rage and anger. He never knew that his father leaped on top of him after the punch, pressed his flaming hand to Zuko's face. He never knew that it took a good two minutes for the other councilors to pull his father off of him, never knew that he screamed and screamed and screamed. He never even heard his father bellow, _You shall learn respect, you miserable, back-stabbing cur, and __**PAIN SHALL BE YOUR TEACHER!**_

All he knew was the pain, and then the darkness, and then waking up a month later, his sister asleep by his side, clutching his hand.

The details came later, each one etched into Katara's heart. How Ozai had been so drunk at that meeting that he barely even remembered what happened, how Yoshihito had simply forgotten, and had instead gone hunting, how rumor said that the Fire Lord raged in private, but said nothing in public, how the hardliners, though horrified at Ozai's behavior, saw a chance to make a scandal and force the Fire Lord to endorse some of their more insane plans.

It was a scandal, growing bigger by the day, and politics were getting involved, politics and court factions and things that made it far worse than it should have been, and it was complicated and getting worse and it threatened to spread beyond the Palace, to rock the foundations of a nation already beginning to doubt its monarchy, and, well…there was really only one solution for it, was there? The eternal solution, the solution all royal families came to in the end:

_Make it disappear._

And that was why Zuko was here, far away from home, and why he would probably never see it again.

She was crying by the end of it. She always was. She cried when he first told her, and cried every time she thought about it. She cried that night, too, not as bad as she usually did, because people were there. She hurled herself into his arms, held him tight, and he buried his face in her hair and held her right back.

Then more arms were there. Korra's arms, and she was sniffling back tears, and Sokka's, and even Toph's. It was the biggest, most amazing group hug Katara had ever been a part of, and that was when she knew everyone was going to be alright. Maybe not tomorrow…but tonight?

_Tonight, we'll be alright._

No one made cracks about her and Zuko's cuddliness for the rest of the night.

* * *

I actually almost didn't write this all out. But, at the end of the day, it was important. It was important to establish a final piece of Zuko, one that sets up this story's resolution (_at least, the first part). _It also gives a window into the workings of the Fire Nation court, and the cracks that are starting to appear, no matter how hard Iroh tries to hold the fort.

The cracks are there, the kindling is in the fire pit. All that is needed..._is a match._

But enough foreshadowing for one day. In the next chapter, Katara has something to tell Zuko. Stay tuned!


	87. A GIRL AND A BOY II

A GIRL AND A BOY

HE DIDN'T KNOW WHEN HE DOZED OFF; ALL HE KNEW WAS THAT, WHEN HE OPENED HIS EYES, IT WAS STILL NIGHT, AND SHE WAS LOOKING DOWN AT HIM.

She smiled. He smiled back.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he whispered right back. "You okay?"

"Yeah…can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything."

"Before I do…you don't have to say anything back, okay? No expectations, no pressure. It's just…it's Saturday morning, and you're leaving tomorrow, and I don't know when I'll see you again, so I'm going to go ahead and say it now, because even if it's not a hundred-percent true now, I can promise you, I'm going to think about it every day from now on, and within a year, it'll be more true than anything I've ever said before."

"Heh…okay. Go ahead."

"I think I love you."

"Heh…I think I love you, too."

"This is really complicated, isn't it?"

"Not really. There's a war on. We gotta say these things now, or else we may never get the chance."

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"You did…and better, too. I just had to steal it real quick."

"You're a dork."

"Who's the bigger dork, the dork, or the dork who, while they may not be fully in love with the dork _now_, will definitely be fully in love with them once they've brooded on it for a year?"

"Um…you. You're the bigger dork."

"Why?"

"Because you say things like that. Also, because I said so."

"Works for me."

"It better."

"Oh, it does, trust me."

"Is that so? Then why don't you show me."

"Come here, and I will."

They never did get back to sleep that night.

* * *

I think this one speaks for itself. Enjoy this fluff; I mean it.

In the next chapter, Sunday arrives, and Zuko and his boys leave town, and everyone's pretty sure that's it for the excitement. Stay tuned!


	88. SUNDAY

SUNDAY

THE SECOND COMPANY, FIRST BATTALION, NINETY-FOURTH INFANTRY REGIMENT, LEFT GAOLING A FEW HOURS AFTER SUNRISE. They put on a very big show, and the city, having seemingly decided that, while the Fire Nation as a whole could go straight to hell, these boys weren't all that bad, decided to give them a good send-off. Everybody turned out, lining a parade route in one side of the city and out the other. The company trooped around the city to the opposite side of where they had originally entered. The company musicians played their hearts out, and everybody, even the Earth Kingdom natives, shouted and cheered. There was a nice little ceremony in the town square, where Lord Bei Fong personally thanked each of the officers, and a beautiful little moment where the city guard turned out and bowed to the soldiers, and the soldiers bowed right back. Then they filed out, and the people cheered them on their way.

Just outside the city gates that had no walls attached, a curious little scene happened. Everyone talked about it for days. A little group stood, that looked like three Water Tribe people, a young man, a young woman, and a teenage girl, obviously related. With them were what looked like the Lady Jiayi and the Bei Fong daughter, Toph, along with a pair of Fire Nation ladies and some bald middle-aged man that a few swore was an Air Nomad, but no one really believed that was true.

There was also a young woman, perched in a tree, but the only person who saw her was a little boy, and when he started to shout to her, she looked at him, winked, smiled a smile he liked very much, and pressed her finger to her lips. Like all little kids, he loved being party to a big kid's secret, so he nodded and kept quiet.

He was almost home, hours later, when he discovered the candy in his pocket.

The scene was curious, not for the group (it was just after the tournament, after all, and all sorts of people were still hanging around, and the Bei Fongs could entertain whom they pleased), but for what the young Water Tribe woman did. When the first platoon came into view, she raced out into the road, tears in her eyes, hair flying, and hurled herself into the young officer leading the platoon's arms. He picked her up and swung her around, and then they kissed, the young man's platoon cheered. The band struck up a jaunty tune, and the soldiers started singing along. It was a Fire Nation tune, but the crowd got the gist of it, and started singing an old Earth Kingdom love song, all as one.

The couple thought this was all very amusing, and laughed and laughed and laughed.

The crowd was very sad when the couple tore themselves apart, and more than a few old women shed tears when the saw the look on the young woman's face, eyes locked on the horizon, as the soldiers disappeared from view.

No one doubted that the excitement was good and done for after that.

* * *

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND I'm going to leave you hanging, right there, because I'm evil.

No, really, I am; if this is your first time reading one of my fics, _never trust me. _

The fluff, like the cake, isn't real.

In the next chapter...you know what...I'll leave it up to your imagination. Stay tuned!


	89. THE CROWN PRINCE IV

THE CROWN PRINCE

THAT NIGHT, HE HAD A TERRIBLE DREAM.

In the dream, he was home, in the Palace. Zuko was dead, the threat was over. His father had seen the error of his ways, and called him home. He strode into the throne room. The entire court was there. Everyone was watching, cheering his triumphant return. His father was there, beaming. His father started speaking, praising him to the skies. Everyone loved him, and everyone was cheering him. He was reconfirmed as the heir to the throne, and the way was paved for him to one day be the most powerful man on the planet.

Then Kojima came in. He carried something round in his hands, wrapped in a red blanket. Yoshihito didn't see until too late that the red was from blood.

Kojima unwrapped the blanket. Zuko's head went rolling across the floor. The court gasped. Kojima shrugged. _You said you wanted to be sure, my lord._

Yoshihito turned to his father. His father was angry. He looked like a god, like Agni Himself come to life. _What is the meaning of this?! _he raged.

Yoshihito fell to his knees. _Father, I can explain._

_ What have you done?!_

_ He was weak! A threat! You loved him more than me! Don't deny it! I know it!_

_**How dare you!**_

Everyone abandoned him. The court hissed and booed. When Yoshihito tried to run, Kojima stopped him. Kojima smiled. _Don't say I didn't warn you, my lord._

Yoshihito felt the fire before he saw it. He turned. His father's hand was a blazing fist, bright and hot as the sun.

_You will suffer as your cousin suffered_, he said, his voice hard and cold. _You will learn the meaning of duty, of love, of pride, and __**PAIN WILL BE YOUR TEACHER!**_

And then the fist struck Yoshihito's face, and it burned and burned and burned and _burned…_

He woke up. He was bathed in sweat, shaking, trembling. He leapt out of bed, staggered to the mirror. He lit candles as he went, lit them with snaps of his fingers. He leaned close to the mirror. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He had never been so terrified in all his life.

He touched his face, examined it. He closed one eye, then the other. He ran his fingers over the skin, felt every inch. It was a long time before he was satisfied.

"My lord? Is everything alright?"

He turned. The girl was sitting up in bed, her face white, terrified. He felt anger surge within him. _How dare she see me like this?! _In a rage, desperate to feel anything but fear, he stormed up to her and slapped her across the face.

"_You do not call me that! You call me __**Your Highness, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"**_

She cowered, fell to her knees.

"Of course, Your Highness. I am sorry, Your Highness."

He cast her out, tossing a bag of money at her as she ran. He never doubted that she feared him. It never occurred to him that she hated him. After all, who could hate him?

He was, after all, a merciful man. His mother told him so.

It was a long time before he was able to fall back asleep.

* * *

Honestly, my heart goes out to Yoshihito sometimes. I mean, I hate the little prick, but still, he's a lot like a small child who doesn't fully understand the implications of what they're doing, and lash out in their fear.

But he's also a prick. Don't ever forget that.

We're going to hit the climax today. I won't bog you down with notes.

In the next chapter...why don't you just go check it out? Stay tuned!


	90. KATARA XVIII

KATARA

IT WAS THE VOICE THAT PULLED HER FROM SLEEP. The voice was unlike any she had ever heard. It was harsh and cold and sharp as a knife. She sat up in bed and pulled all the water she could find to her, forming it into a spear above her head.

The voice laughed.

"That won't be necessary, my lady."

She looked around. She couldn't find where the voice was coming from. It was too dark. The windows were all shut. _Where is he?_

She knew she had heard the voice before, but she just couldn't quite place it.

"Who are you? Where are you?"

Another laugh, softer this time.

"If you don't mind, I like all my blood right where it is, so I'll keep that information private for the time being."

She stood. There were three spears now, one above her head, one in each hand.

"Show yourself, or I can promise that you will die."

"Heh…you wouldn't want to do that, my lady."

Something stopped her. She never could figure out what.

"What do you want?"

"Do you love him?"

For some reason she would never be able to explain, she knew exactly who he meant, and she didn't even think of lying.

"I will. With all my heart."

"I believe you. That's why I'm here."

"What do you want?"

"Tomorrow night, his company will be ambushed. His cousin has finally decided to get rid of him. If you move fast, you just _might_ be able to save him."

She knew where the voice was coming from now. She hurled the spears into every corner of the room, lashed the fourth with a whip of water. She pulled out a box of matches, lit every candle. The room was bathed with light.

No one was there.

For a moment, she hoped it was a dream. She never really believed it, though.

He had told her to move fast. She moved faster. She was dressed and out the door before she was even fully aware of what was happening.

In the room across from hers, Azula slept. In the city, the Lady Arinori Mai whined and moaned and bitched. Her personal servant had run off with some boy from the provinces. What would she do? She never should've agreed to take the girl on. Only the personal request of _Her Highness the Princess Azula _had convinced her otherwise. Well, that would be the _last _time she ever did a friend a favor, of that, she was very assured.

Katara kicked open the door. Azula was up and out of bed before she was even two steps in.

"What is it?" Azula asked.

Katara didn't hesitate.

"Zuko's in danger. We have to get moving."

The last sentence wasn't even fully out of Katara's mouth before Azula threw open her traveling chest and began pulling out her clothes and her sword.

No one else argued, either.

* * *

Like I said: _Climax. _

It shall be satisfying.

In the next chapter... *maniacal laughter*


	91. ZUKO XX

ZUKO

IT WAS TUESDAY AFTERNOON WHEN HE NOTICED IT. The company was just reforming after lunch when Zuko looked around, sniffed the air, and felt the change. Without hesitating, he went up to the Captain, and didn't bother to bow.

Bowing was for peace and quiet and the home base. Courtesy had no place on the battlefield, and Zuko was beginning to suspect that was exactly where he was.

"Sir?"

The Captain turned, cutting off a conversation he was having with Master Sergeant Kawazaki. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Have you noticed, sir? There are no people."

The Captain looked around, nodded. Contrary to popular opinion, even in the midst of a war, there are always people. There are peasants in the fields, hunters in the woods, random people doing random things in random places for absolutely no discernable reason. Every day, they had seen people. They had seen trade caravans and traveling families and lone strangers and every possible combination in between.

All that day, though, since a few wanderers in the morning, they had not seen a soul.

"I do believe you're right, Lieutenant." He turned to Kawazaki. "Sergeant, spread the word. Battle formation, helmets on. From now on, we don't stop until nightfall." He turned to Zuko. "Lieutenant, gather your fellow officers." This was unnecessary. The other officers, sensing the change in the air, had already gathered. "Ah, I see they're already here. Gentlemen, it appears that we are walking into an ambush. Prepare your men. Tokugawa, Watanabe."

"Sir," they chorused.

"I need four runners, the fastest men in the company. I want them here five minutes ago."

Between them, Zuko and Toru chose one man from each company, so that no one was short-changed. They had them before the Captain within five minutes. Meanwhile, the company prepared for battle. Packs and satchels were tossed into the wagons. Anything that was unnecessary was discarded. Tsurukawa raced about, making sure nothing was out of place. Ryu and Yukawa and the sergeants dashed about, dressing the ranks. The musicians discarded their instruments, right there in the road, were issued weapons, and took up pre-assigned positions in the ranks. Helmets were slipped on. Conversation stopped. Prayers were muttered. Talismans were rubbed. Mothers were missed.

The Captain addressed the runners. All mirth was gone.

"Gentlemen, two of you will make for the Regiment. That will be you, Himuro, and you, Sakata. Raise the Regiment, get them to us as quick as you can. You two, Minamoto and Ohtaki, make for Gaoling. Raise the city, get us as much help as you can. You're about to learn why our good behavior was so important. Dismissed, fly like the wind, and may the gods help you."

Of the four, Minamoto was the only one who had never seen combat. His feet had healed quite nicely. Zuko hated himself for picking the boy. When he pulled the boy out, the boy had swallowed hard, resisted the urge to bow, and promised to do his best. He had only one question.

"Will I make it, sir?"

Zuko had shaken his head. "Probably not, Private. But you have to try."

The boy had bowed his head. It only took him a few seconds to recover what Zuko had no doubt the boy thought was his courage. "Is it okay to be scared, sir?"

Zuko had patted him on the shoulder. "Absolutely, but you still have to do your duty."

"I'll do my best, sir."

"I know you will."

Zuko was already composing the letter to the boy's mother as he watched him disappear into the woods.

There were no speeches, no brave words, no rallying cries. At the signal from the Captain, who had dismounted and shooed his komodo-rhino away, Master Sergeant Kawazaki gave the order to march.

They marched in silence, eyes straight ahead, as one.

They did not look back.

* * *

The storm is on the horizon. Only the gods know what will happen.

In the next chapter...shit gets real. Stay tuned!


	92. LOBSANG II

LOBSANG

HE FOUND HIS YOUNG FRIENDS, HIS YOUNG CHARGES, HIS YOUNG COMPANIONS, RUNNING OUT TO HIS AIR BISON. They were all there. He didn't know how they'd been gathered so fast. Sokka was dressed for battle, in his Water Tribe warrior's garb, his boomerang across his back and his _jian _at his hip. Katara had her own boomerang across her back, one big waterskin at her hip, a smaller one slung across her chest, dressed in a woman's version of her brother's garb. Toph had her fighting uniform on, a small knife – no doubt for last resorts – strapped to her ankle. Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai ran right alongside them, dressed in their _ninja _uniforms, _katanas _slung over their backs, only the gods knew how many other blades stashed about their persons.

Even Korra was there, dressed like her true mother and her true brother, a knife resting at her hip. The look on her face alone would've been enough to break his heart.

Lobsang stepped from the shadows, raised his hands, and shouted for them to stop.

He felt it said a lot about how much they respected him that they did.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

Katara stepped forward. Not for the first time, he marveled at how she naturally took the lead in any endeavor.

"Zuko's in danger," she said, eyes narrow, voice hard. "His entire company's in danger. We're going to have to hurry to get there in time."

He nodded, looked each one of them in the eyes. He wanted to say a lot of things. He wanted to tell them to go back to bed, to let wars and battles be fought by soldiers. _It was bad enough that so many boys had to die_, he begged in his mind. _Why do you have to die, too?_ _You're only children, _he screamed, looking at Toph and Korra, _and you_, he said, grabbing Korra by the arms, _you've only begun to heal, don't go back into that darkness, don't let me lose you again. And you_, he said to Azula, _is this what you brother wants? Your mother?_

_ And you_, he pleaded to Katara, _you love this boy, I know you do, you think you're not quite there yet, but you already are, these old eyes see it. Are you really willing to watch him die, to let him watch you die?_

He screamed. He screamed and he shouted and he raged and he used language he had never even thought, much less uttered.

But he did none of that out loud. Out loud, he sighed, walked to the air bison, to one of the chests sitting in a corner, drew out his Air Nomad robes, and pulled his staff from the deepest darkness, the staff he had hoped he would never have to use again.

"Well, there's only one thing to do, now, isn't there?"

"You don't have to come," Katara replied, the group already moving again. "We can fly the air bison on our own."

He laughed. "And trust in young Sokka's sense of direction? I'd rather you didn't! Now, let this old man through, before you all hurt yourselves."

As they took off, he found himself wondering, not for the first time, if he would ever forgive himself for being such a coward.

* * *

Moving on...


	93. THE LACKEY III

THE LACKEY

HE WATCHED THEM MARCH INTO THE TRAP FROM THE TREES. He sat on one branch, Jun sat on the other. There was nothing more to be done. The plans had been made. Everything was set. Now, they would either succeed, and thus fail, or fail, and thus succeed.

He laughed. It was a philosophical conundrum to try even the Fire Lord.

Jun gave him a strange look. "What's so funny?"

He shrugged. "Just a private joke. You wouldn't understand."

"Would I want to?"

"Probably not."

A pause. He watched the company march, admired their discipline. The watchers had reported in, describing how the company had been on the alert since noon. Outriders had been pulled in close, no more than shouting distance away. They marched in that strange mix of closed, yet open, order that they Fire Nation had so painfully developed, close enough to quickly form battle formations, far enough apart to be able to efficiently scatter if they came under earthbending attack. Eyes did not wander, but he could feel their senses out, probing the darkness, ready for anything.

"They're ready for us," Jun observed. "Somehow, they knew."

He laughed. "Of course they knew. They're battle-hardened troops being led by battle-hardened officers, all part of a regiment that's spent over three solid years in the most volatile combat zones. Those boys have forgotten more about ambushes than you'll ever know."

She turned on him, eyes hard and distant. "You knew they'd be ready."

He shrugged. "Let's just say that I never discounted the possibility that they would have eyes and ears and noses."

She looked away. "We should call off the attack."

"Why?"

"An ambush isn't an ambush if they're prepared and ready."

"It is if you want them to stand and fight, rather than scatter and make a break for it."

Her face fell, and her mouth hung open. "You wanted it to work out like this."

"Naturally. We need a clean sweep. If anyone survives to tell of how a Fire Nation man struck off the head of their most popular officer, or makes off with a prisoner with strange stories to tell, that defeats the purpose of plausible deniability, now, doesn't it? There will be enough questions as is."

"We're going to lose a lot more than we planned."

He turned on her. To her credit, she tried to hold his gaze. She lasted longer than anyone else ever had in his entire life.

"Since when did you care?" he asked, quite sincerely.

"I'm just thinking of myself and my position after this is all over."

He turned back to the road. "Just make sure no one survives who can directly link you to this, and you should be fine."

She sighed. "A lot of blood."

"Fewer ways to split the money."

She perked up a bit. "That's true…always looking on the bright side, eh, Ping?"

"My name isn't Ping."

She laughed. "Of course it isn't, but we agreed that was your name."

"I'm rescinding the agreement."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, then, what should I call you?"

"My real name," he said, quite matter-of-factly.

She scoffed. "Fine. And what is that today?"

He told her. She turned to him. She blinked. She realized too late what it meant. She went for her knife, but she was too slow. He slit her throat from ear-to-ear, then, in virtually the same motion, drew her own blade, plunged into her heart, and sent her tumbling into the gathering darkness.

He sighed. It was unfortunate, but it had to be done. She was smart, too smart. She would put two-and-two together, come up with five, and realize that it was the right answer. That simply couldn't be allowed to happen, not yet, anyways. It was too soon for answers to be formed.

Darkness came. The company marched into the prearranged spot. The horns began to blow. The warcries went up. Drums were beating. A lone bugle blew. Rocks began to fly. Fire began to light up the night.

He looked to the skies, and wondered what was keeping them.

* * *

o_O


	94. ZUKO XXI

ZUKO

HE HAD LOST ALL TRACK OF TIME. That's what always happened, in battle. Time disappeared. All there was, was the battle, the fighting, the killing, the dying. Kill, or be killed. That was all there was.

Kill, or be killed.

_My name is Tokugawa Zuko. My family has ruled the Fire Nation for over two-hundred-and-fifty-years. No clan has ever held power for so long. I was born in the Royal Palace in Miyako. When I was born, the bells rang to announce the birth of a royal male. My father cut the umbilical cord and held me so that the sun could shine in my face. He said the ritual words. "Behold, a prince is born. May the sun always shine on him, and may his fire never go out." Then he gave me to my mother and left the room. It was a month before he bothered to look at me again._

A rock was flying through the air, towards the ranks. Zuko reached out, felt the fire flow through his veins. He hurled his very essence into the air, felt it swirl and pour from his soul. The fire flowed, and he was the fire. The rock shattered into dust. Three more boulders came. He knocked those down, too. Fire flew. Souls where hurled into the void. Souls were snuffed out. The arrows came. Screams went up. Screams and cries. Someone was begging for their mother. He didn't know what language it was.

In battle, they all sounded the same.

_My sister's name is Tokugawa Azula. When she was born, I was very excited. I was only two. It was one of my first real memories. Mother was delighted to have a daughter. Father was disgusted. He cut the umbilical cord, said the words, substituted __**princess **__for __**prince. **__It was two months before he bothered to look at her again. It was a difficult delivery. They didn't know if Mother would live. I held my sister every night, because no one else dared._

A man was coming at him. They were coming through the lines. The ranks were growing thin. He didn't know when that had happened, or how. It didn't matter. He was everywhere and nowhere, everyone and no one. He screamed orders, a constant stream. He pulled boys from thick spots, plugged them into thin spots, did not dare to look at their faces. He did not think of their names when battle came.

The man raised his sword and screamed. Zuko ran him through and burned his face off with his other hand. The man screamed louder. Zuko freed his sword and moved on. He did not pause to register the man's age, whether he was a man or a boy.

_Azula and I wielded fire for the first time within a week of each other. She was five and I was seven. Mother was very proud. Father barely noticed. Uncle was marching from glorious victory to glorious victory. The North had come to terms. The First and Second Walls of Ba Sing Se had been shattered. The heralds sang Uncle's praises every day. Father drank more and more. His prospects for the succession grew dimmer every day. Grandfather no longer bothered to notice him. It was around that time that he began beating Mother. No one ever said a word. Azula spent most nights curled up at the foot of my bed. She was too proud, even then, to admit that she wanted under the covers. She always brought her favorite doll._

Yukawa fell first. The first volley of arrows caught him in the throat. He died choking on his own blood. Even as he died, he issued orders with gestures. He never blinked. He never cried.

He looked very scared at the end. He covered his face so his boys wouldn't see.

_We found out that Ba Sing Se fell on my ninth birthday. I went to Father to tell him the news. He was very drunk. He beat me within an inch of my life. He never said why, never said a word. He just beat me until he grew bored, and then staggered off. I didn't fight back. I don't know why. I don't think I knew what was happening._

Sergeant Toshio died with a sword through his stomach and another through his back. He killed both of the men who killed him. He was hurling fire until the light went out of his eyes.

Zuko didn't blink. He grabbed Lance Corporal Kubota by the shoulder, slapped him across the face to get his attention above the din, and promoted him to Platoon Sergeant. Kubota nodded, laughed a strange, strangled sort of laugh, and leaped into Toshio's place, shouting orders.

_I saw my first man die when I was thirteen. My cousin killed him. He was a servant. I never found out why. Azula liked the servant. My cousin never knew how close he came to dying that day._

The same volley of boulders that split the line in two killed the Captain. Zuko had once heard that you never saw the blow that killed you. Zuko wasn't sure if he believed that. All he knew was that the Captain was dead, crushed into paste, and he was in charge now. He didn't know how he knew this. He just knew that it was so.

He formed his half of the company. The enemy was streaming into the gap. Zuko drew his sword, grabbed the standard, and ordered a charge. His boys didn't hesitate. They screamed _banzai _and charged. The enemy was not prepared. They were cut down like wheat before a scythe by a hail of fire and a wall of _yari _blades dripping blood. The company was reunited. There was a lull. The enemy was reeling. Zuko reformed the line, drew them back upon a stream that ran alongside the road.

Toru was there. He held his arm to his chest. His forehead was dripping blood. Ryu was dead. No one knew how it happened. Somewhere, Zuko could hear Tsurukawa's voice, bellowing like a peasant trying to pull a stump from a field.

Toru asked Zuko where his helmet had gone. Zuko reached up, touched his brow. His fingers came away thick with blood. It was running over the left side of his face, the dead side of his face. He hadn't known.

He didn't know what had happened to his helmet, either. He snatched one off a dead man, slammed it on, ignored the pain.

_I fought my first real battle on my nineteenth birthday. Before that, it was all skirmishes, ambushes, and guerillas vanishing into the night. The rebels were dug in on a mountaintop. It was snowing. It shouldn't have been snowing, but it was. The snow flew into our faces as we charged up the mountain. We could barely see the rocks and the boulders as they flew down upon us. We gained the position, won the battle. I was the first man over the barricades. The Captain chewed me out for being stupid, even as he tried to bite down a smile._

They came three more times. _Or was it four? _Zuko didn't know. All he knew was that they kept coming and coming. Tsurukawa died. Zuko didn't know how. It was only him and Toru now, Toru who was limping, and wouldn't, or couldn't, explain why.

Zuko was bleeding. He had stopped a sword blow with his hand, melted the sword with his fire, sliced the man's head off with his _katana_. Zuko was screaming as he did it, screaming so he didn't have to hear the man's screams. His hand had been cut deep.

He was bleeding from his side and his leg, too, but he couldn't remember how that happened.

A good third of the company was dead. Another third were wounded. Those wounded who could stand were shoved back into line. Those wounded who couldn't stand were shoved back into line, too. No one complained. No one ran. Zuko couldn't help but feel very proud of that.

_My name is Tokugawa Zuko. I am twenty-two years old. I have been decorated for bravery and exemplary duty seventeen times. The Colonel has a list of at least a dozen more decorations that he intends to put me in for when I let him. I almost cried when he showed me that list. I don't tell anyone about that list. I'm afraid they'll think I'm a great man, a credit to my nation. All I see are dead boys and letters to mothers._

_ The only person I've told about that list is Katara. I haven't even told Toru._

_ Katara understands._

_ She always does._

They were coming again. Zuko doesn't know how many times it's been. He doesn't know if the company can survive this one. The line bends, it buckles. It doesn't break, but holes form. The enemy pours through. Toru and Zuko plug the gaps themselves.

Zuko never feels the arrow enter his left shoulder. All he knows is that one minute, he's standing, fighting, issuing orders, screaming, and the next, he's on the ground, and he can't feel his arm. He struggles to his feet. It's hard to breathe. His ribs feel cracked. He's lost his helmet again. He doesn't know how.

There's a lull. They're reforming. Zuko pulls in the line. Only a hundred men left now. Most can barely stand. Many are in worse shape than he is.

Lance Corporal Kubota appears. The man can barely breathe. He clutches his sides. He holds his sword in trembling fingers. His face is white. He sways as he speaks. He says Toru is down. Zuko goes to him. Toru is pale, white, shivering. He can't see anything. He reaches out for Zuko. Zuko falls to his knees, takes his hand. He kisses his best friend on the forehead. He lies, tells him it's going to be alright.

Toru tells him that he always was a terrible liar.

Zuko admits that this is true.

Toru gives him a letter. Toru tells him not to open it until the battle is over, he's alive and he's safe.

Zuko laughs. He tells his friend that he doesn't think any of them are getting out of this.

Toru rolls his eyes.

_You're going to get out of this, _he says, blood spilling from his mouth. _You will. You have to. You're our only hope. You're my only hope. I love you. I always have. I…_

Toru dies. Zuko closes his eyes and says a prayer for his soul. He doesn't know what else to do.

_My name is Tokugawa Zuko. I am twenty-two-years-old. I am falling in love with a girl named Katara. She's the same age as I am. She's amazing. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but that's not why I'm falling in love with her. _

_ She said something to me, there, in the road, before she let me leave. She told me to come back to her. She told me to live, to survive, to find her when this was all over. She told me to tell her for real, and she would do the same._

_ I promised her._

_ I didn't think I was lying._

They were coming again. Zuko knew this was the final time. As they charged, Zuko raised his _katana_, and screamed at the top of his lungs.

_**"BANZAI!"**_

Far too few throats scream right back.

_**"BANZAI!"**_

They charged. The enemy falters. They didn't expect this. Fire lashes out. Men fall, boys scream, people and trees burn.

Zuko doesn't hear the groan, like that of an oxen under the whip. He doesn't see the wall of water rise up from the stream at his back. He doesn't feel the blue fire ravaging the enemy. He doesn't notice the two girls and the young man in blue swirling through the enemy, cutting them down by the dozen. He doesn't see the earth come alive.

All he knows is that this is how it would feel, if the world came to an end.

_Unless it already did._

* * *

Moving on...


	95. KATARA XIX

KATARA

THERE WAS NO TIME FOR A GAME PLAN, NO TIME FOR FORETHOUGHT. When they finally came upon the battlefield, even from the sky, it was a hell of blood and fire and earth and slaughter. They couldn't make out was going on. All they could hear was screaming and crying and the sound of steel on steel.

Then she heard the words, and she didn't think anymore.

_**"BANZAI!"**_

She leaped over the side. No one tried to stop her.

_**"BANZAI!"**_

She was falling. She was flying. She began to bend as she fell. The water, the water she saw, the water she felt, the water she sensed, _the water she lived_, rushed up to meet her. She rolls down into it, with it, becomes one with it. She hurls it forward, a great wall of ice and cold and death. She hurls it over the heads of the charging red line. She begins to move even before it lands. She swirls the water around her, dealing death everywhere she goes.

A man runs at her, screaming. She hurls her boomerang into his chest. He falls, reveals three more. She slices them apart with her water.

The bison lands with a _boom. _The others are already leaping off. Azula hurls great spouts, walls, tornadoes of blue flame, cleaving great gaps through those who stand against her. Mai and Ty Lee are whirling dervishes, swords flashing red and steel through the night, lighting up like shooting stars when they catch the glow of the flames. Toph is laughing. Later, she will be unable to explain why. She just does it, as she brings the very earth alive and swallows men whole.

Sokka dives into the fray. His sword drips with blood. He begins their tribal war cry. Katara and Korra join in.

No one ever seems able to describe what Lobsang does. The mind reels at the attempt.

It's Korra who ends it. She floats into the air. Her eyes are gone. The world flashes blue. Men die. Those who don't die, flee, screaming, into the woods.

A thousand voices and one call out in a voice that thrums in her blood and feels like it's hollowing out her very bones.

_**"ENOUGH! NO MORE!"**_

It's over. Katara looks down at her armor. She's covered in blood. She doesn't know how it happened.

She finds Zuko standing, surrounded by his men. There are barely fifty left. All of them are wounded. Most can barely stand. Their eyes look like those of men already dead.

She runs up to Zuko. He's covered in blood. His _katana _is dripping with it. An arrow sticks from his left shoulder. She can tell that a lot of the blood is his.

He reaches for her. He says her name. She says his.

He falls. She catches him. Somebody is screaming orders. It's a woman. She sounds hysterical. She's very annoyed. She's busy doing first aid, binding Zuko's wounds, rattling off orders to Korra as she does the same for the others. Zuko's still breathing. His men load him onto the air bison. They insist. The others will stay behind to protect them until Lobsang can get back.

Someone's still screaming. She wants them to stop.

Katara can't help but notice that it sounds a lot like her.

* * *

I better get a piece of fanart about that swan dive.

Moving on...


	96. THE CROWN PRINCE V

THE CROWN PRINCE

HE FOUND KOJIMA WAITING FOR HIM IN THE DARKNESS OF HIS ROOM. Somehow, this didn't surprise him. Kojima, after all, had a way of showing up in unexpected places at unexpected times in a manner that made it utterly predictable.

He didn't react at first. He wasn't entirely sure why. His hands did not shake as he walked, slowly, calmly, to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of wine. His eyes did not dart about. He did not feel the irresistible urge to look at Kojima without looking. He felt no fear, suffered no trepidation.

His heart was not calm, though. It thumped madly in his chest. His throat felt thick, his tongue heavy.

He smiled. _I'm excited. _It had been a long time since he had been excited.

"Is it done?" he asked, his back still to his lackey.

Movement, the sound of fabric slithering against fabric, legs uncrossed and re-crossed where he could not see them.

"It is done, my lord."

The Crown Prince smiled. He resisted the urge to look at his smile in the mirror. He didn't want his mental image of it shattered.

He raised the glass of wine, held it up to the light filtering through the shutters. He turned the glass first one way, then the other. The wine sloshed around, spiraling around its center. The wine looked thick and clear, the color of blood floating through water. The wine sloshed up towards the rim, and it caught a beam of light in such a way that, for a moment, it sparkled like a bed of diamonds at dawn.

He couldn't help but feel that it was a good omen.

"Do I have anything to worry about?"

He felt the shrug without seeing it.

"Only time will tell, my lord. I can do many things, but telling the future is not one of them."

For a moment, Yoshihito felt a prick at the back of his mind, a sliver of anger and fury and rage. _Why can't this miserable bastard ever give me a straight answer? _he raged. _Why can't he ever tell me exactly what I want to hear? _

It goes without saying that he did not notice the bitter irony in those statements.

He closed his eyes, and the anger faded away. _Why worry? I'm safe. Father will call me back. I will be restored to my proper place. I need never leave the Palace again. I can turn my back on this miserable country and forget I was ever here._

He opened his eyes, and his smile remained.

_I am invincible. I am the Crown Prince Tokugawa Yoshihito. I am descended from a line terrible and proud. One day, I will be the most powerful man in the world._

_ One day, I need never know fear again._

_ I will abolish fear._

"You have done well, Kojima," he said, closing the cabinet and walking over to the window. He threw open the shutters, and the weak light of an autumn dawn spilled into the room. He stood there, closed his eyes, felt the sun warm his blood, felt the fire rise in his heart.

_I am a Prince._

_ I have done what needed to be done._

_ No more, no less._

"Thank you, my lord."

"Do any details remain? Any loose ends?"

"A few, my lord. I am leaving immediately to clear them up."

"When will you be back? You have been gone from my side too long."

"In a week or so, my lord."

"I'm glad to hear it." He opened his eyes, and turned. There, in the cone of light cast by the sun, sat Kojima. He was dressed in his old plain uniform, unadorned, invisible. For a moment, the Crown Prince wanted to ask the man how he could stand it, how he could tolerate flitting through a world that barely seemed aware of his existence.

In the end, he didn't ask any of that. He could not muster the strength to care.

"I mean it, Kojima," he said, drawing himself up tall and proud. Never, in his entire life, had he felt more like a king. After all, this was what kings did. They dispatched their dirty little underlings out into the world, and removed threats before they happened, without fear, without shame, without prejudice. None could stand in his way, not even the cousin with half a face who had haunted his dreams for far too long. "You did well. I am very pleased."

Kojima uncoiled himself from his chair. He stood to attention, and bowed, lower than he ever had before. Yoshihito felt a flush of pleasure at the sight.

_Finally, he respects me. Finally, he fears me. Good._

_ Now he knows that I am a king._

_ Now he knows that I have what it takes to be Fire Lord._

"If you say so, my lord." He rose, hands clasped behind his back. "May I have your leave to go, my lord?"

Yoshihito turned back to the sun, waving him away with his most imperious roll of the wrist.

"I expect you back in a week, Kojima. We have much to discuss."

"It might take a little longer than that."

He shrugged. He realized he didn't care. "Whatever, just get back quick."

"Of course, my lord." And with that, he was gone.

Yoshihito closed his eyes, and his smile was born anew.

_I am a Prince. I am heir to the most powerful man in the world. One day, I will be Fire Lord. Questions of right or wrong do not matter to me. They are beneath me._

_ By merely existing, my actions become right._

_ It is the proper order of things._

He stared there, face to the sun, for a long time, how long, he did not know. He stood, and smiled, and, for a time, at least, forgot all about his dream.

* * *

If you thought you hated him before...

I'm going to leave you there, without any further comment. Why? Well, it's like I keep trying to warn you:

_I'm evil._

Let this be a lesson to my new fans: Listen to the old hands. Enjoy the fluff while it's there. It never stays for long.

In the next chapter, the Ninety-Fourth marches out, and we begin to deal with the aftermath. Stay tuned!


	97. THE COLONEL II

THE COLONEL

THE NINETY-FOURTH INFANTRY REGIMENT MARCHED INTO GAOLING DRESSED FOR WAR. There were no bugles, no bands, only the _tramp-tramp-tramp _of feet, the clatter of armor, and the slow, steady beat of the drums, marking the time. Their faces were grim, and there were no smiles. Their spearpoints pointed to the sun, glittering like death.

They marched, five-thousand-strong, vengeance in their hearts.

No one dared to stop them.

The people hid in their homes behind bolted doors, and parents pulled their children away from the shutters, ushering them into pools of darkness.

It had been nine days since the ambush, nine days since a bleeding young man named Sakata had staggered into the base, barely able to breathe, and collapsed, screaming for help. Colonel Kotaro Ryuji had reacted at once. Within hours, the Regiment was forming up, a mounted detachment racing out the gates and into the wilderness. By morning, they were on the road, their feet sounding the march of war.

No one even dared to ignore them. Farmers vanished from their fields. Travelers scattered from the road. Children cowered behind their parents' legs.

The soldiers looked no one in the eye, and all returned the favor.

There had been only one pause, for a day, at the site of the ambush. It was a horror show, one of the worst battlefields Kotaro had seen in over thirty years of war. The company had given far better than it had gotten, but all, it seemed, had been for naught. The Regiment gathered the bodies, burned them, collected and labeled the ashes. The corpses of the enemy were rolled into mass graves, forgotten and un-mourned by those who buried them. Prayers were said, a memorial service was conducted, punitive patrols were sent into the woods, hunting for survivors. None were found, though rebel stragglers were dragged from the holes they hid in.

The Regiment showed no mercy. Kotaro felt no shame in that.

At dawn the next day, the work was complete. Kotaro was presented with the list. When it had left the Regiment, the Second Company of the First Battalion had marched slightly over-strength, with two-hundred-and-eighty-six effectives.

Two-hundred-and-thirty-nine bodies had been found, more-or-less identified, and burned. Not counting Sakata, that left forty-six unaccounted for. By noon, Kotaro knew every name by heart, including one he did not know how to feel about.

_Tokugawa was not here._

Kotaro's heart broke at that.

_Poor boy…be alive. You're our only hope, and you don't even know it._

When the Regiment entered Gaoling, every man had white mourning bands tied around their arms. White banners dangled from spears, and a white ribbon fluttered from the colors. To Kotaro's ears, even the beat of the drums sounded like a funeral dirge.

_How many will we find?_

_ How many will be left?_

_ How many letters home?_

He did not know the answers to those questions, so, like the soldier he was, he pushed them aside, and cursed the Fire Lords for unleashing this madness upon the world.

_No more._

A delegation of those of his countrymen who lived in the area waited for him in the city square, cowering in fear. They were terrified of a general uprising, saw massacre lurking behind every corner. It was a legitimate fear, as Kotaro knew only too well, but he did nothing to comfort them. He was a soldier, and he had his duty, and the duty to his boys came much higher on the list of his priorities than his duty to his country.

He led the Regiment on a show-of-force through the city, from where they moved to a large field just across from the Bei Fong estate. He set them to work building a fortified camp, then rode to the front door of the Bei Fong mansion, dressed in full battle array, every inch the God of War.

The Lord Bei Fong awaited him on the dirt before his home. He stood, back straight, head held high, with a white mourning band around his left arm, wearing funeral attire. When Kotaro approached, the Lord led his people in a slow, dignified bow.

Kotaro noticed the man did not fall to his knees, like so many in the city had. Kotaro could not help but feel that this Earth Kingdom lord had more pride than any of Kotaro's own countrymen.

Kotaro dismounted, and returned the bow.

"My lord," he said, in the voice he used for issuing orders in battle.

Lord Bei Fong rose. "Colonel. I extend my condolences to you and your men on this sad, terrible day."

Kotaro acknowledged the regards with a bow of his head. "I thank you," he said, and meant it. "Before we go any further, I am afraid that I must inform you that, under the authority vested in me by the Occupation Government, your city is now under martial law. Civil authority is hereby suspended, and a curfew will be in place, effective immediately."

Lord Bei Fong bowed his head. "I understand. It is regrettable, but understandable."

"This city will probably be given a permanent garrison before the month is out. That may be my men, it may not be. For the time being, though, it will be us. I promise you, my men will behave with honor and discipline."

"If your comrades from that poor company are any indication, I have no fear."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"It is sincerely meant." Bei Fong turned to a richly dressed magistrate beside him, snapped his finger. A large, ornate key appeared in his hand, and he handed it to Kotaro. "The key to the city, Colonel. Gaoling is yours. I beg you to be merciful."

Kotaro accepted the key with a bow. "I am afraid that is out of my hands, but I shall do my best."

Bei Fong nodded, face blank, eyes impenetrable. "I understand."

_Yes, I'm sure you do. _Mentally, Kotaro cursed, cursed his duty, cursed his uniform, cursed the day he ever set foot in a land where he did not belong.

But he said none of that. He never would.

"Were there any survivors?"

Bei Fong nodded. "Yes, Colonel, some. Not all have survived their wounds, though."

"Any officers?"

"One." Bei Fong turned, gestured at his home, the home that Kotaro feared would soon be someone else's. "If you will follow me, I have been caring for them in my own home."

Kotaro bowed. "Lead the way."

The Colonel was gone for about two hours. Outside, his staff waited.

He returned without warning. Even he couldn't make sense of the look on his face. He marched right up to his staff, barking a stream of orders.

"All forty-six men who were unaccounted for, are no longer so. I'm afraid we were too late for eleven of them. You, have them moved to the camp immediately. They are to receive the best possible care." More orders followed, more orders, and few explanations. The wounded were to be moved with care. Those who had passed from their wounds had already been cremated and put into urns with full Fire Nation ceremonies, and as much as honor as the circumstances allowed.

It was the commander of the First Battalion, Major Takajo, who finally asked the question Kotaro had been avoiding. "And what of the one officer, sir? The one who survived? I need to speak with him immediately. I need to know what happened to my boys."

Kotaro sighed, and looked away. He hoped none of those present could read minds.

"Lieutenant Tokugawa survived the ambush, but not his wounds. He passed two days ago, after he finished dictating his report."

Takajo looked away fast, tears in his eyes. During the ambush that had taken his predecessor's life, Tokugawa had personally saved his life. "Of course he would…"

Kotaro nodded. "Indeed." He hoped his voice was steady. "His urn is among those being brought to us. It is to be brought to me immediately. The survivors are clear that they would not be alive if it was not for him."

All nodded, removed their helmets, bowed their heads in silence. None doubted the words.

Not even the man who was uttering them.

He issued his last order before leaving. "You," he said, pointing at one of his clerks, "bring me paper and ink. I must write to his mother myself."

The boy bowed, tears in his eyes. "Right away, sir."

Kotaro turned his back and left before his face could betray him.

_Our only hope…_

He set his shoulders, and glared up at the sun.

_No more._

* * *

For those playing the home game, white is a funeral color in East Asia. Well, at least, it _was; _the culture of the West tends to leave no survivors. Still, I felt it was a nice touch.

So, I almost didn't post anything today. Not because it's not ready or anything, but because I'm evil and I'm cruel and I love to be hated. Also, I did a bunch of _Honey Do _stuff today, and I felt that called for some hardcore _Skyrim _time. However, at the end of the day, even my cruelty has limits, so I have decided to be merciful...

Also, when my wife read yesterday's chapters, she turned around and, without a word, punched me really hard in the arm and called me an asshole. I'm kind of scared of her, so I decided not to make anybody wait any longer.

Thus, today, some of your questions will be answered. _Not all, _but, hey, _some._

Quick note before moving on: This project is all about _grey-on-grey morality. _Clear cut good guys will be few and far between. It may seem like I'm siding with the Fire Nation in this chapter, but, trust me, _I'm not. _They should never have come to a place they were never invited; Kotaro, I think, puts that very well. That said, these boys just had their comrades massacred; they're not going to be well disposed to any of those they feel are responsible.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Korra has two conversations, one long, one short, and starts on a path that even she can't see the end of. Stay tuned!


	98. KORRA V

KORRA

SHE SAT ON A HILL FAR AWAY FROM THE MANSION, AND WAITED.

It was night, and it was very dark. Rain was in the air, musty and thick, the smell of wet grass and coming blackness. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the cold bit at her soul.

She didn't notice, though. She was wrapped in a thick cloak, and besides, she had a feeling she wouldn't have to wait very long.

She didn't. She couldn't have been in the trance more than ten minutes before she heard the voice, like rocks rattling around in her skull.

"Good evening, Avatar."

She opened her eyes. There before her, shrouded in the deep blue glow of another world, sat the woman who, when alive, had been known as Kyoshi. Even sitting, she was imposing. She was taller even than Zuko, upwards of seven feet, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest and thick, muscular hands. She was burdened with armor, and her face was hidden behind the thick make-up of the order she had founded.

Korra hated that make-up; she always had. It made her feel like she was talking to a shadow.

"Good evening, Kyoshi."

Kyoshi bowed her head. "I did not expect you to call on me. Roku led me to believe that I would have to be the one to call on you."

Korra allowed herself a smile. She didn't really want to know what kind it was. "Yeah, well, Roku's been wrong before, hasn't he?"

Kyoshi's eyes narrowed, though what her expression was, Korra could never tell.

_Like trying to talk to a shadow…_

_ Like trying to read a stone…_

"That is not for you to say, young one, or me. It is not fitting to judge the actions of the Avatars who have come before us."

"You judge me every day."

"That is because we have the experience necessary to do so. We have lived, and learned, and become the better for it. One day, you will sit in our place, at our side, and you will understand."

Korra shook her head. It was hard not to laugh. She resisted, because she had no desire to find out what kind of laugh it would be. "Maybe, maybe not."

Kyoshi blinked, and Korra hoped that was confusion on her face. "How do you mean…?"

Korra sighed. "Nothing. It's not important right now, and besides, you wouldn't understand." _I'm not even sure I do._ She let out a breath she'd barely been aware of holding, reached up, and ran her hands through hair she wasn't sure even existed. "What's important, is that I wanted this out of the way. I assumed you would be the one Roku was referring to, when he said someone else would come to see me."

Kyoshi nodded. "I was. We are all very concerned that you do not fully understand what it means to be the Avatar."

She laughed. "I understand _perfectly _what it means to be the Avatar."

"Your actions, especially of late, do not show that. The Avatar does not involve themselves in petty skirmishes and minor scrapes. The Avatar does not concern themselves with the smaller picture, with the little squabbles of individuals."

Korra had a response for that. It came in a voice she didn't even know she was capable of.

"Maybe the Avatar doesn't, but I do."

Kyoshi frowned, or, at least, Korra thought she did. "I'm not sure I understand."

Korra sighed. "No, you wouldn't. The point is, I did what I thought was right. For the first time, I listened to my heart, my _true heart_, for the first time in far too long. I did what I knew I had to do, not out of fear or blind hatred or the thrill of being a teenager on a power trip. No, I did it for my friends, for my loved ones, and I'd do it again."

"Without hesitation?"

"_None._"

Kyoshi shook her head. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Korra popped an eyebrow. "Well, tough. Besides, I'm sure you've heard it before."

Kyoshi's shoulders slumped. "Yes, I'm afraid I have, right before those same words lead to disaster."

"Depends on how you define disaster."

"You are the Avatar. There is only one way to define disaster."

"What, the way you define it?"

"You have your duty," Kyoshi growled, as if through gritted teeth, "and that is the end of it."

Korra shook her head. "No, it isn't. I know that now." She rotated on the grass, turning her back on Kyoshi. "Now, get out of here. I don't want to see any of you until I call for you. I have a lot of training to do, and only the gods know how much time in which to do it."

Behind her, she heard Kyoshi rise, standing on legs that might not exist.

_If any of this does…_

"Training for what, if you intend to abandon your duty?"

"Who says I was going to abandon my duty? All I'm doing is deciding what that actually means."

"And what do you think it means?"

She smiled, and finally, wished she could see it.

"Good question. We'll find out together."

There was a long pause before Kyoshi answered.

"Good night, young lady."

"Good night, ma'am."

And then she was almost alone. A glow came, from behind a tree. Korra felt her smile reach her eyes, and she whistled, how, she never quite knew. _Everything is so confusing, here in this world that's not a world. _A whistle came back, and then a twelve-year-old boy with a bald head stepped into view.

He was smiling. She liked his smile. She wondered if she would ever smile like that again.

"So," he said, in an admiring tone, "that was pretty freaking epic."

She bowed her head. "Thank you, Aang. How'd I do?"

He shrugged. "I haven't the faintest idea. Even I never talked to our past lives like that."

She giggled. "Yeah, well, you're not me, now, are you?"

He laughed, light, easy, carefree. "No, I'm not."

She nodded. "I used to think that was a bad thing, that I wasn't them, but…now, I'm not so sure."

He pondered that for a moment, before he answered her. "What do you think now?"

She shrugged. "Like I said, I'm not sure. All I know is that I love my friends, and that there are too many good people in this world, on both sides, for things to go on like they are, or to go back to what they were."

"Heh…that's the spirit."

"Am I doing the right thing?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. What do I know? Only you can answer such a question."

"That's a pretty scary thought," she admitted.

"Yeah…but if anyone can handle it, it's you."

"Thank you."

"No, thank _you._ Oh, and before I forget…tell Zuko that your previous incarnation thinks he should grow a beard. I think he would look pretty cool."

Korra giggled, closing her eyes to fix the image firmly in her mind. "Yeah, it would, wouldn't it?"

When she opened her eyes, he was gone.

She wasn't scared, though, because she was far from alone.

_No more._

* * *

I'm to ask something very specific from you guys: When this project is done, I want you to come back, find this chapter, and re-read it. I'll try to remember to tell you that, at a very specific point in time in Book 3, but hey, who knows if I will? Point is, there's a lot of very important things going on here, even if Korra doesn't quite know what they are yet.

But I digress.

You know, speaking of digressions...Kyoshi was always problematic for me. I mean, she sat there on her soon-to-be island and let the Earth Kingdom tear itself apart. What was up with that? Oddly enough, I think I finally figured out an answer. An ideal Avatar, or, at least, how they probably see themselves (especially in this fic) is one who only gets involved when the so-called _balance _is in jeopardy. If Chin the Conqueror had been trying to conquer other nations, that would be an Avatar problem. Fucking things up in his homeland? Not so much. The Avatar is supposed to be _above _such things.

But then Korra comes up, sits Kyoshi down, and asks: If that's the case, _why the hell is there even an Avatar at all? _

I'm not going to get too much deeper into that. There'd be spoilers, after all. If you're curious, ask my wife. _She knows all._

Moving on! In the next chapter, someone wakes up, and I reveal myself not quite as evil as I sometimes think I am. Stay tuned!


	99. ZUKO XXII

ZUKO

HE WOKE UP IN A FOG. It was a long time before he could see. Half the world was black, but he was used to that; it was the other half, the right half, that was murky, shapes and colors swirling without rhyme or reason. He took a breath, let it out, grimaced at the way his throat felt raw, rough. He ran his tongue around his mouth, regretted it. His mouth was dry, and his tongue felt like sandpaper.

He blinked, over and over and over again. He was in a bed, he could feel that, sense that, but he didn't know where. It was a big bed, comfortable, or, at least, it seemed so. _What would I know? I haven't slept in a real bed since…_

_ Since…_

He paused. He wasn't entirely sure. _How long had it been? _He didn't know. His memories were unclear, hazy, fragments of light and dark, fire and blood, all mixed up together. He remembered holding Toru's hand, remembered the arrow in his shoulder, remembered scattered moments, fragments floating like noodles in a soup. Each time he reached for one, it slipped away, and more appeared. He tried to get a handle on them, on his mind, on where he was, what was happening, but…

_But…_

_ I'm not alone._

He turned his head. There, curled up beside him, wrapped around his arm, clasping his right hand, was the most beautiful girl in the world. _At least, to me. _He wanted to scream. To laugh and shout and dance a jig all the way around the room he could barely see the dimensions of. But he couldn't. Somehow, though he didn't know much, he knew that.

_She'd probably kill me if I tried._

He squeezed her hand. She opened her eyes, and he loved them, even as he saw the pain and the heartache and the sleepless nights, the dark circles and the way the blue seemed grey and washed out and rimmed with red.

Then she smiled. It was a weak smile, tired, exhausted, but it was her smile, and that was all that mattered.

_"Hey, you," _he whispered, his voice cracked and grating.

Her smile grew, and she reached up, her other hand appearing out of the fog. She reached for his face, brushed her fingertips across his brow, along his scar, threading their way through the bristle he just now noticed on his jaw.

_"Hey," _she whispered back. Her voice sounded like she hadn't slept in a week. _Has it really been that long? "You're awake."_

He wanted to nod, to do something, _anything_, to reach out and hold her and kiss her, but there was a strange weight on his left arm, something holding down his left hand, and he was too hazy to try and puzzle out what it was, or if he should be worried. _"I am. How're you doing?"_

She scotched closer to him, nuzzling up under his chin, her fingers dancing across his chest. _"Tired, very worried, and very tired. Though…less worried now."_

_ "I hope so…how bad am I?"_

She burrowed in even deeper. He didn't think it was possible, but she managed. She pressed her ear to the skin over his heart, as if the beating was the only thing holding her to this earth. _It's almost like she needs me as much as I need her…_

_ Which is crazy…_

_ "You're better, now that you're awake," _she answered, her voice trembling, _"but you were bad. A broken rib, three cracked ones, an arrow in your left shoulder, a thick cut across your forehead, a spearpoint broken off in your thigh, your left palm sliced almost clean through…you'd lost a lot of blood. We didn't know if you'd pull through for a while there." _She sniffed, took her fingers from his chest, grabbed at the thin silk shirt he realized he was wearing, began wiping her eyes with it. _"__**I **__didn't know if you were going to pull through…"_

He tilted his head down, pressed his mouth into her hair. _"Well, I'm through." _He took a deep breath. It hurt, but he managed, because it didn't hurt nearly as bad as what he was about to say. _"How…how many of my boys made it?"_

She didn't hesitate, didn't pull her punches, hid nothing from him, and thus, he discovered a whole new reason for why he was falling in love with her.

_"Thirty-five."_

He swallowed. It felt like a ball of fire was rolling down his throat. He pushed through it.

_"Any word on the runners?"_

_ Any word on Minamoto?_

_ Did I send another boy to his death?_

_ "None arrived here. We don't know about your Regiment."_

He closed his eyes, and tried very hard not to cry. He tried for focus on anything, anything at all, anything but the pain, the faces that floated up to him, the sound of mothers sobbing in the night, letters clutched to their chests.

_My boys…_

_ Oh, gods, my boys…_

He pushed it away. _One thing at a time. "Katara?"_

_ "Hmm?"_

_ "I know why I'm whispering…but…why are you?"_

_ "Heh…subject change?"_

_ "For now. I'm going to save my breakdown for when my girlfriend thinks it would be medically safe."_

_ "Good, because your ribs probably wouldn't take that. Healing with water speeds things up, but it's not an instant fix. Also…I'm trying not to wake up my companion."_

_ "Your…your companion?"_

_ "Surely you've noticed that someone's holding your other hand."_

_ "I…huh…I just now did…"_

_ "Well, she's asleep for the first time since we brought you back, so, you know, __**whispers.**__"_

_ "Oh…she…?"_

_ "Take a look."_

He did. He had to shift himself to get a good view with his one good eye. Katara helped him. It hurt, but together, they managed. Somehow, he couldn't help but feel that that was going to be indicative of his life from now on.

_Her and me, together. As one, we can do anything._

_ Even move me a bit so I can see…_

_ I can see…_

_**Gods…**_

She had woken up with his movement. Her eyes met his just as his met hers.

It was a long time before he said anything.

_"Azula…"_

She smiled. It was like the sun had just risen, right there in that room.

_"Zuko…"_

Later, he would decide the moment he well and truly fell in love with Katara was the moment when she didn't stop them, no matter how careful she wanted him to be.

The tears came. They burst from her eyes and flowed down her face. She hurled herself into his arms and he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight and, together, they cried like babies.

_"I missed you, brother," _she croaked.

He buried his face in her hair and held like he did when she was five, and used to sneak into his room at night, because, she told him, _Nightmares don't come in your room; they're too scared of you._

_"I missed you, too."_

He held her, and then Azula was freeing one of her arms and pulling Katara into the embrace, and they all held each other, and Zuko swore, right then, right there, a solemn oath, forever and for all time.

_No more._

_ No more games._

_ No more playing it safe._

_ No more sticking my head in the sand trying to hide in duty._

_ No more madness, no more tyranny, no more spoiled children playing games._

_**No. More.**_

* * *

A bit of wisdom from my wife: "You'd never know that Zuko is your favorite character, what with how you beat the shit out of him in every fic." She has a point. I need to stop being such an ass to him.

But don't worry; in this fic, everyone will get their turn in the barrel.

Also, I'm not _completely _evil. He got his sister back! For a bit!

But I digress. In the next chapter, Kojima appears, and answers none of the questions you actually want to know the answers to. Stay tuned!


	100. MAI VI

MAI

IT WAS HER TURN TO STAY UP AND KEEP WATCH OVER ZUKO, WHICH SHE COULDN'T HELP BUT FIND RATHER AMUSING. After all, it wasn't like he needed someone else. Azula was sprawled in a chair in the corner, head back, mouth open, dead to the world, while Katara was curled up on the bed beside him, nestled into his side, out cold. It was really more like, _Her turn to give the two girls an excuse to sleep_, than anything else.

Not that she minded. Not, one, _bit._

He was awake, which he was doing more and more. The more Katara healed him, the more she slowly lowered his dose of pain medicine. It was the absolute most she was willing to do. He had demanded to be taken off of it completely, but she had stood her ground, giving him that _look _that she was so good at.

_I did just fine, last time I got wounded, _he pointed out.

_That's because I wasn't there to stop you from being an idiot_, she replied.

_I didn't need them when I got burned, _he snapped.

_See my previous statement, _she quipped right back.

_You're impossible. Azula, help me on this._

Azula had thrown back her head and laughed. _Fuck you, Zu-Zu, I'm on her side._

He had looked to Sokka then, Sokka and Korra and Toph and Mai and Ty Lee, all in turn. Toph had spoken for them all: _Don't look at us, Sparky. We're not tangling with Sugar Queen._

_ Not even the Avatar will come to my aid? _Zuko had pleaded.

Korra had thrown back her head and laughed. _Fuck no. _Then, when Katara shot her a glare, she had looked down and mumbled, _Um…I mean…no, Zuko. Sorry._

The memory of the argument (_if a battle that was never in doubt could be called that_) still brought a smile to her face.

They were playing Pai Sho, by which Mai meant that she sat at the foot of the bed, the board before her, while Zuko called out his moves. _If they could be called that._

"You know," Mai said, taking another of his pieces, "I didn't think this was remotely possible, but, somehow, you've gotten worse at this game."

Zuko shrugged, as much as he was able to these days. "What can I say? I haven't played since I was banished."

Mai rolled her eyes. "You didn't play _before _you were banished, either."

"Hey! I beat you all the time!"

"Yeah, that's because I let you win."

"Brat."

"Jerk-face."

They shared a soft chuckle, and then Mai went back to kicking his ass.

She didn't know where the man came from. She never did figure it out. After he left, her and Azula and Katara would call the others in, and together, they would tear the room apart, trying to figure out how he got in, how he got out, and what the hell had just happened.

They never did get to the bottom of it.

She recognized him instantly. Before she even had time to think, she was on her feet, the game board knocked to the floor, pieces rolling across the ground. Her knife was in her hand. The movement woke the others up. Katara and Azula leapt to their feet, their elements in their hands, ready to strike.

Zuko narrowed his eye, and spoke for them all.

"And just _what_," he growled, "the actual ever-living _fuck _are _you _doing here?"

The man they all knew as Kojima, though none actually believed that was his real name, didn't so much as _blink_. He merely gave a slight bow, before casually pulling up a chair and settling himself into a comfortable position.

"That, Your Highness, is a complicated question."

"Don't call him that," Katara snapped, before Mai could.

Kojima shrugged. "Very well. Titles are unimportant, anyways, at the end of the day."

Zuko turned to his sister. "Azula, Mai? Do me a big favor and kill this asshole. Make it hurt, if you don't mind."

Azula smiled. "Don't mind if I do," she said, while Mai fell into an attack position, snarling, "What us to leave a bit for you?"

Zuko shrugged. "I really couldn't give less of a shit."

It was Katara who snapped them all out of it. Her face slack, she dropped out of her form, sending the water she had called back to where it came from. "You…you're the man who was in my room, who warned me of what was about to happen."

Kojima bowed his head. "So I was, my lady."

It was Mai who got in first this time. Snarling like a rapid wolf, she stepped forward. "You don't get to call her _that_, you miserable cur."

If Kojima was threatened, he didn't show it. Taking his time, he drew a cigarette from a pack out of his pocket, lighting it with a match struck off his boot and taking several long, relaxed drags. He blew out the smoke, a thick cloud into the air. "As I said, titles don't matter, and no one in this room will have any for long, anyways." To Zuko, he bowed his head. "Condolences on your death, by the way. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Zuko didn't react; they had already told him how his Colonel had visited before he woke up, how Azula had convinced the man to proclaim Zuko dead. "I'm sure you're very torn up about it, considering you were the man who brought it about."

Kojima cracked a smile. "Already put it all together, did you? I told that empty-headed idiot that it wouldn't stay a mystery for long. He didn't believe me, of course, but what can you do?"

"Not massacre my entire company?"

Kojima frowned, and, to Mai's shock, looked genuinely sorry. "That…was unfortunate. There was no way around it, none I could see, but I regret it nonetheless."

"Can I kill him now?" Azula asked, eyes pleading.

"Yeah," Mai added, her body trembling with hate, "please?" She was confused, her mind reeling, and she wanted to end this man's existence before he had a chance to talk his way out of it, wanted that more than she ever wanted anything in her entire life.

Zuko, though, was shaking his head. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"Me, too," Katara said, sitting back down on the bed and taking his hand. "There are questions we need answered."

There was a long silence then, while fire crackled in Azula's hand and the point of Mai's blade shook in the air. Zuko gripped Katara's hand, and Katara gripped it right back, even as her free fingers twirled through the air, gathering energy.

It was Mai who broke the stalemate. Putting her knife back in its sheathe, she turned to Azula, and sighed. "We might as well know why we're going to kill him."

Azula didn't look convinced, but she nodded. She snuffed out the flames in her hands and slumped back into her chair. "Very well." To Kojima, she glared. "Speak, _worm._"

Kojima chuckled as Mai sat herself back down. "_Worm. _I like that. It's a good description, not just for myself, but for my employer."

"I'm not hearing an explanation," Katara growled.

He bowed his head. "True, you're not. And, since I don't fancy my chances of leaving this room alive if I don't offer one, well…I suppose I should get to talking."

"Please do," was all Katara had to say.

He smiled, and the smile made Mai's blood run cold. "_Quite. _Well…everything you know is the truth. I did arrange the ambush that slaughtered young Zuko's company, and I did it at the orders of the vacuous imbecile that I have the misfortune to work for. I also tipped all of you wonderful people off about what was going to happen. My hope, of course, was that you'd get there before too much damage had been done, but even I can't time things perfectly _every_ day."

"Why would you warn us?" Mai asked, in a voice not fully her own.

"Because I didn't want the young prince to die, of course."

"Why not?" Azula asked, not sounding the least bit convinced.

"Why would I? How could that _possibly _be in my interest, or, for that matter, in the interests of your people? You and he are the Fire Nation's last best hope for salvation. People say that about you, behind closed doors, whisper over their _sake._ Your people need you both alive, and thus, for reasons of my own, I need you alive, too. Of course, my hope was that my erstwhile employer would attack _you_, Princess. That would turn your brother irrevocably against your family, while also leaving him within the military, where I felt he would be able to do the most good, the most effectively."

"So, you wanted to kill my sister?" Zuko asked, dumbfounded.

"Of course not! What did I just say?" Kojima rolled his eyes, as if he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the stupidity of the world in which he was forced to live. For some reason Mai couldn't quite pinpoint, she felt that this was the _true _Kojima…or, at least, as close to his true self as he would ever let anyone see. "I had no doubts about the ability of the Princess and her friends to survive any attack. But she would tell you, wouldn't she? She would feel that she had to. And you would finally, truly turn you back on the Tokugawas, and start down the path of raising the military against them. At that point, their days would be even more numbered than they already were, while your sister was free to train the Avatar."

Katara raised her hand, and spoke in a way that made Mai suspect the girl was reading her mind. "That…that makes no sense. Why would you do that?"

Kojima's answer was quick, simple, and to the point.

"Because I hate the Tokugawas. Because I hate my employer. Because I wanted to steal the money he paid for this. Because daddy beat me when I was a kid. Because I'm bored. Because I thought it was funny. Who cares? What matters is, you will never have any idea what I have had to do to make this all happen, to keep you all alive, and moving towards where you need to go."

"I don't believe you," was all Mai could think to say.

"None of us do," Katara added.

"Amen," Azula said.

"Go to hell," Zuko growled.

Kojima sighed. "Very well." He stood, and bowed, nice and proper; even Mai was impressed. "Good day to you all. I know you wish I would say that you'd never have to see me again, but, alas…I'm afraid I can make no such promise."

"Oh, we'll see you again," Katara said, a vicious grin on her face, "because you're not going to leave this room conscious."

Kojima laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

Azula smiled, and Mai's blood ran cold.

"This one's for Ryu," her friend said, even as fire burst into life in her fists.

Even as all three of them struck, every candle in the room instantly snuffed out. Darkness fell, and voices cried out in the black. Katara yelped, and something broke. Azula's voice went tumbling across the room. Mai felt something wrest the knife from her hand, felt her arm bend back, felt herself go flying.

Silence. Zuko had managed to light a candle. He held it up. Mai pulled herself off the ground, crawling up one of the bedposts. Katara was groaning, a chair smashed beneath her. Azula was untangling herself from the corner where she had landed.

"The fuck did he go?" Zuko asked.

They all looked. He was gone.

It was like he was never even there.

* * *

You know what the great thing is about a three-part epic? _I don't have to tie everything up now. _Honestly, I don't have to tie anything up _ever; _nothing wrong with a few loose ends. That said...Kojima does have a motivation. He has a reason, a motive, even a name. Will I ever share any of that with you? That's an excellent question; I'm glad you asked!

For answers, though, you'll have to wait. For now, please tell me you guys share this fic with your friends, and that you all discuss it. That would make me a happy panda.

Moving on! In the next chapter, Fire Lord Iroh receives a letter, and is not pleased. Stay tuned!


	101. THE CONFIDANTE II

THE CONFIDANTE

KIYOSHIRO WAS SITTING BESIDE THE FIRE LORD, IDLY DOODLING ON A PIECE OF PAPER, AS WAS HIS WONT, WHEN THE MESSENGER BURST INTO THE COUNCIL CHAMBER. There was a great stir amongst the high lords of the realm, a stir silenced by a wave of Iroh's hand. Kiyoshiro watched, fascinated, as the messenger gulped, a plain white cylinder clasped in his hand.

Iroh heaved a heavy sigh, and stood.

Kiyoshiro had never seen him look so old.

"Come here," Iroh commanded.

The messenger gulped once more. He was pale as a sheet, and trembling like a leaf in the wind. Walking like a man on his way to the block, he went up to the Fire Lord, fell to his knees, presented the cylinder.

"I was commanded to bring this straight to you, Your Majesty," he said, his voice little more than a squeak.

Kiyoshiro watched his old friend, and the Fire Lord watched the cylinder, shaking in the boy's hand. Nobody moved. Nobody blinked. Nobody breathed.

It was like the world had stopped.

Kiyoshiro had never seen anything like it.

Slowly, moving like he was at the bottom of the sea, Iroh took the cylinder. With steady hands, he opened it, drew out the scroll from inside.

He couldn't have been more than three or four words in before his face went white. He froze, his body shuddering like a jolt of electricity had shot through it. He looked up at the skies, and his lips moved, and Kiyoshiro knew, right then and there, that something truly terrible had happened.

Then, just like _that_, the pain and the remorse and the regret disappeared from the old man called Iroh's face, and in the blink of an eye, the Fire Lord had returned.

He shoved the letter back in the cylinder, slammed the lid closed. He reached down, grasped the boy by his shirt collar, pulled him to his feet. The Fire Lord was trembling with rage. Kiyoshiro had never seen him so angry.

_"Do you know what this letter is?!" _he raged.

The boy gulped, and after several stammering attempts, finally choked out, "Yes, Your Majesty…"

The Fire Lord shoved the boy away, waving the cylinder in his face. _"Then why did you not take it directly to the Lady Ursa?! Is that not __**THE LAW?!"**_

The boy did his best to not wilt, he really did. Kiyoshiro's heart went out to him.

"But…but…Senior Clerk Shinoda…he…he told me to bring it straight to you…"

If the Fire Lord heard, he didn't care. He slapped the cylinder to the boy's chest. "You take that to the Lady Ursa this instant, _do you understand me?!_"

The boy nodded, gulped, bowed. "At once, Your Majesty." And just like that, he was gone.

The Fire Lord rounded on Kiyoshiro, still in a towering rage. "Kiyoshiro!"

Kiyoshiro stood, bowed. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"I want Senior Clerk Shinoda demoted and thrown in a cell, right this instant."

Kiyoshiro bowed. "At once, Your Grace." He turned to the nearest pair of guards. "You heard His Majesty. At the double!"

The guards bowed, and raced out of the chamber.

One of the councilors, obviously not of the highest caliber, timidly stood, and bowed. "Your Grace? May I inquire as to what has happened…?"

The Fire Lord was in the man's face, shaking him by the front of his shirt, before anyone even had time to blink. _"No you may not!" _He shoved the councilor away, and turned on the others. "This meeting is adjourned. There will be no more business today. The Palace is officially in mourning. _Now get out!"_

No one hesitated. They blinked, bowed, gathered their things, and ran for the door.

_"Not you, Kiyoshiro."_

Kiyoshiro had been in the process of leisurely making his exit, but he stopped, turned, and bowed. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Come here."

Kiyoshiro did just that. "What do you need, Your Majesty?"

He didn't see his old friend, standing there before him, hands clasped behind his back, looking out the window, off into the distance. No, this was the Fire Lord.

There was a difference, though even Kiyoshiro would be hard-pressed to explain it.

"I want you to draw up the papers, rescinding my nephew's banishment and restoring his title. Date them as of yesterday. I want them before me within the hour. Then, you will tell the staff to begin preparations for a state funeral, as well as putting the Palace into a state of mourning. After that, I want my son recalled from overseas. When he gets here, have him thrown in a cell, and have that monster I put in watch over him brought directly to me. Understood?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Oh, and one more thing: Send to Lord Matsuura. Tell him that I would dearly like to receive his son, privately, here at the Palace, at the soonest available opportunity."

Kiyoshiro frowned. "His son, Your Grace?"

"Did I not make myself clear?"

Kiyoshiro bowed. "Perfectly, Your Majesty."

"Good. Now, get out. I will be in the gardens."

Kiyoshiro got out, and did not look back.

* * *

Hey, Kojima _tried _to warn Yoshihito. I mean, how could one not put all that together? Isolated company gets ambushed in a very quiet sector, no more than a few days after the Crown Prince passed through? Plus, if you think Iroh isn't aware that Kojima's been gone from his son's side for a few days, you're crazy.

Either that, or Iroh plans to teach his son a lesson on general principle. Still, one doesn't become Fire Lord if one can't connect the dots.

But I digress. In the next chapter, Ursa gets a letter, and has only one thing to say. Stay tuned!


	102. URSA II

URSA

SHE ONLY READ THE LETTER ONCE; THAT WAS ALL SHE NEEDED. To read it more would be torture, when it was already seared into her mind. She had read them before, seen her friends curl up on the ground, sobbing hysterically, clutching one of these letters to their chests. She had often wondered, over the past four years, if, should the day come, when she would have one of these letters in her hands…would she do the same?

Would she scream? Cry for days? Rip her clothes apart? Tear her hair from her scalp?

She didn't know. She still didn't know.

_…regret to inform you…_

She looked up at the boy, trembling before her. He was so young; he couldn't have been much older than her Zuko.

_…served with honor and integrity…_

She wondered what the boy's name was. Where was he from? How did he come to be here? Had he watched his mother, or his sister, or one of his friends, receive one of these letters? Did he know what they did? What they said? Or was he too young to think about such things? Did he ache to be away, to be _over there_, to march alongside all the other fresh-faced boys who were far too young…_far too young…_

_ …a credit to his country, his family, his people…_

She closed her eyes.

_…we all mourn with you…_

She took a breath.

_…deepest condolences…_

She let it out.

_…fell with honor…_

She laughed. _Honor? There is no honor. Honor is a lie that old men tell to get young men to die for them._

She crumpled the letter up, and hurled it into the fireplace. She didn't watch it burn. She didn't need to. She didn't even bother to register the crackling, or the smell of parchment turning to ashes.

The boy blinked. "My lady…?"

She silenced him with a wave. "It's quite alright, young man. No condolences are necessary."

He looked very confused. "But…my lady…"

"You see," she said, turning on her heel, "my son's not dead." She went to the window, and looked out upon the city, glittering in the sunlight. "He's alive, and one day, he will come back here, and he will return to me, both him and my daughter, and I will watch them bring upon this family the fate that it deserves."

"Um…I don't…uh…if you say so, my lady…"

"You may go."

He didn't waste any time. He went.

She waited for the door to close, for the latch to click. She turned on her heel, walked to her cabinet, fell to her knees, opened her shrine. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she wiped them away, refused to shed them.

_No more tears._

She lit the incense sticks, but only two. She ripped the picture of her ancestor from within and tore it to shreds, scattering it into the air.

_No more excuses._

He couldn't be dead, because she could still feel him. She could feel him out there, feel his resolve, and somehow she knew, she knew that he was loved, that her daughter was with him, and that they, together, not her brother-in-law, would be the ones to answer her prayers.

_No more regrets._

She bowed her head, and began to pray.

_No more._

* * *

Ursa knows. _Mothers always know. _It's kind of what they do.

Keep an eye on Ursa; she'll be very important, moving into the future. *wink*

I was actually thinking about posting the last part, the _denouement_, as they say, today, but I like the idea of ending it all on a Friday. Don't ask me why; I just do. So, tomorrow, you will get the last six chapters (they're pretty quick, but very important), and there will be feels. We'll have a good cry, wipe our eyes, I'll give you some information on what's ahead, and away we'll go.

So...in the next chapter, Sokka has a chat with his sister, and wishes his father had told him how much a grown man can expect to cry. Stay tuned!

PS - Every time I use a word like _denouement _in a piece of writing, my wife swoons. Benefits of marrying an English major; I highly recommend it.


	103. SOKKA IV

SOKKA

HE FOUND HIS SISTER WHERE HE EXPECTED TO FIND HER, SITTING IN HER ROOM, HEAD IN HER HANDS. He didn't say anything as he slipped inside. He wasn't sure what he _should _say. He just went in, closed the door quietly behind him, and went to her side. Carefully, he settled himself on the bed beside her, and stared off to into space.

"Hey, sis…"

It felt like a long time before she answered. She raised her head from her hands, and wiped her eyes. "Hey, bro…"

"How's Zuko?"

A sniff. "He's good…or, as good as can be expected. Azula's with him right now; they're making their goodbyes. I figured I would give them their privacy."

He chuckled. "Yeah…never thought that girl could cry at _all_, much less cry that much."

She looked up at him, and he turned to meet her gaze. Her nose was running, tears were drying on her cheeks, and her eyes were red and washed out. "She loves her brother, and he loves her. I should think we'd know how that feels."

He smiled down at her, bit down on the tears he felt burning in his eyes. "Yeah, we do, don't we?" he said, throwing an arm around her.

She leaned into him, settling her head into his shoulder. "Yeah…we do…" Another sniff, another wipe of the eyes. "So…you figured it out?"

He shrugged, and did his best to sound flippant. _I'm not going to crack; I refuse. I won't let her last sight of me being of me sobbing like a baby. _"Actually, Korra figured it out. Even beat Toph to the punch. It was pretty impressive."

He felt the smile on her face. "That's my girl."

"Yeah…"

"You're not…you're not here to talk me out of it, are you?"

He scoffed. "Of course not! For one thing, I know better, and for the other…well…_it's the right thing to do. _We can't risk traveling around with _two _exiled royals, one of whom's supposed to be _dead_, and we sure as shit can't leave the guy on his own, not when he's about to go off and foment revolution."

"No," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his torso, "we can't leave him alone. I swore to him, to Azula: _No more._"

He bent down and kissed the top of her head. "_No more."_ He rolled the words around on his tongue. "You know, that's a catchy little phrase."

She giggled. "What, like a _catchphrase?"_

"Psh. I like how I said it."

"You mean, _how you phrased it?"_

"Kiss my ass, Katara."

"You first, Sokka."

"Is that how it's going to be?"

She looked up at him, his favorite kind of smile on her face.

"That's how it's _always _going to be, and _don't you forget it."_

He kissed her forehead. "I never will, sis. I never will."

She held up a hand, fist clenched, pinky curled into the air. "Promise?"

He entwined his pinky with hers.

"Promise."

She giggled, he bit his lip, and then he broke his vow not to cry.

He didn't feel any shame about it. After all, it was like his father always told him:

_Real men aren't afraid to cry._

_Though it would've been nice if he'd warned me about how much._

* * *

So, we've gone through the denouement, and now it's time to set up the next stage. When the time comes, we're going to leap right into it; I don't want anyone surprised.

Also, I've never been one to stint on the feels. Are you ready for the feels? _Because you are not prepared._

In case it's not clear, Katara's going to stay with Zuko. Just keep that in mind.

Random note...there was a guest review (so I can't message back), but...don't mistake the things that're happening to Iroh as being OOC. The sad truth is that he has finally realized that he is the latest in a long line of powerful, incredibly talented individuals who can rule the world, but can't rule their own families. History is littered with examples.

But I digress. In the next chapter, Kaelyn gets her wish. _Prepare for the feels. _Stay tuned!


	104. ZUKO XXIII

ZUKO

HE ALMOST DIDN'T ASK HER. Through it all, he kept putting it off and putting it off. He ducked, he dodged, he weaved. It would rear up, ready to strike, and he would slide to the side, roll, off into the darkness, and hide, hide until it slithered away. As he and his sister hugged, hugged and held each other and cried like little kids whose puppy just died, it was there, lurking in the darkness, that same darkness he hid in. He knew it was there; he knew he could not avoid it.

_But knowing that he couldn't do something had never stopped him from trying._

He was Zuko, after all; what would he be, without stubbornness bordering on idiocy?

_Toru actually had to trip me into Katara, before I finally admitted that I wanted to kiss her._

The monster struck. He winced, and he looked away.

_Toru…_

"It's time."

That was all he said, all he had to say. They were sitting on his bed, feet dangling over the side. The air of the mansion, the way the very grass whispered in the breeze through open windows, was filled, saturated with pain, longing, _goodbyes. _The next step of a great journey was upon them, and they simply could not all go together.

_And we might not all make it out alive…_

Azula didn't say anything; she didn't have to. They'd always been like that, talking without talking. When she was sad, he read to her. When he was angry, she firebent with him. They didn't talk about these things, or during these things. Nothing needed to be said.

They just needed to know that someone was there, and that someone cared.

_And now I'm losing her again…_

The letter was in his hands. It was like he blinked, and it was there. Azula pressed against him, her hands clasped in her lap, her head on his shoulders. White hot tears burned in his eye, but he pushed past them, _through them._ He needed to do this. He _had _to do this.

_I promised Toru I'd read it…_

The letter wasn't much of a much, two sheets of plain paper, folded in on themselves. The edges and joints and hinges were worn and frayed, speaking of countless unfoldings and refoldings. The paper itself seemed brittle, fragile, and it had been turned almost purple by the blood.

_My blood, or his? Or some other poor boy, from far away, who never asked to born into this world?_

Zuko didn't know; in the end, he supposed it was the question that mattered, rather than the answer.

He opened the letter, unfolding it with trembling hands, with fingers suddenly huge and clumsy. There was something hot and sharp in the back of his throat, like a cloth boiled in water and suddenly shoved in his mouth. He pressed the letter into his lap, smoothed it out against his thighs. It was sloppily written, not like Toru at all. His handwriting was normally cramped, painfully neat; at the Academy, he would spend countless hours, working on his penmanship. _He took such pride in it_, he remembered. _He used to hold up things we wrote, one against the other, and even I would laugh at the contrast._

_ Even I would laugh…_

_ Because I used to laugh then…_

He read. He read it in one go, like how his friend had written it.

_Zuko,_

_ If you're reading this, I'm probably dead. I can't imagine that I would ever have the guts to give this to you otherwise. It'll probably be some last, dramatic gesture, my dying breath, something stupid like that. I hope you laugh when I do it; I deserve it, for all the crap I used to give you about that dramatic streak the Palace beat into you._

_ I hope that when they carve my name into the wall at the Academy, they misspell it. Would serve me right, after how much I so totally didn't help you before the ceremony._

_ But I digress…heh…I'm as bad as you, aren't I? You've rubbed off on me. I wonder how bad I'll get by the end of it? It's fall; I just got my assignment. I don't know why it took so long. I got a letter from your sister, too. She told me what happened. When I found out, I ran to my room, bolted the door, and sobbed for days. I refused to come out, no matter how much my mother begged me._

_ But now we're going to be in the same unit! Azula says she's squared it all away, no doubt by some absurdly devious means neither you nor I would be capable of. We're going to serve our country, no matter how much that country has hurt you._

_ But…the country didn't hurt you, did it? You told me that. I asked you once. Do you remember? At my family's estate, that summer, when you came and tried to pretend you hadn't been betrothed to your sister's best friend. You were like a beaten puppy, shocked, confused, unsure of what to think, like you couldn't decide if you were being rewarded or punished, or maybe both. Heh…no wonder my sister let you get in her pants. She always had a soft spot for dopes._

_ Yeah…that summer…what you told me…we snuck out after dark, to that place I told you about. We went out to the shore and watched the sun come up. I asked you to run away with me. I spun that crazy story, remember? I told you how I didn't want to go to war, how I was scared, how I didn't want to kill anybody, and I definitely didn't want to die. _

_ I told you I didn't believe in the War, or the Cause. _

_ I committed treason._

_ Somehow, I knew I was safe. I committed treason before a prince, and felt no fear._

_ And that's when you told me…you told me that you agreed. You didn't buy any of the propaganda, you knew the truth, you and your sister had snuck out and listened to the secret briefings when no one was watching you. You knew the truth behind everything, and yet…_

_**You still wanted to go.**_

_I asked you why. What had the Fire Nation ever done for us? _

_ And you said: __**She's done everything. It's not her fault she keeps falling into the hands of madmen.**_

_So now I'm going to war, and I'll have you by my side. Somehow, I don't think I'll make it back. I don't know why; it's just a feeling, deep in my gut. But…I know you'll make it back. You have a destiny. You, and that crazy sister of yours, and whatever other crazy friends you fall into in that way you always do, but mostly you…__**you're going to save us all. **__You're going to save us from the madmen, and convince us of something better._

_ I know this, because I know you._

_ I believe in you._

_**I love you.**_

_Since that day on the beach, I've loved you._

_ Goodbye,_

_ Watanabe Toru_

_ PS – If I really do make it through our tour-of-duty, and the War ends, and everything's cool, and we're reading this together over drinks, feel free to make fun of me. I mean it; after all, what's more dumb than an eighteen-year-old's confession of unrequited romantic love? Rib me good enough, I might even show you some of the awful poetry I used to write about you back at the Academy, when no one was looking._

_ PPS – I mean it, make fun of me. It's the only way to not feel embarrassed._

_ PPPS – I just wanted to do a third postscript. Seriously, that's it. Bye!_

He looked up at his sister. Her eyes were rimmed with red and washed out. He smiled. She smiled back.

"We're going to go home, Azula. I promise you that."

She laughed. "Of course we are. I mean…uncle will have to go, and Father, but still…" That their cousin would not survive the experience went without saying. "Who will take their place?"

He reached out and ruffled her hair. "Well, you'll never bow to me-"

She scoffed. "_Bow to you? _Fuck that."

"Heh…yeah…you'll never bow to me, and I'm not bowing to you until you finally admit that you cried when we first saw _Love Amongst the Dragons_-"

_"Did not!"_

"You _so _totally did. But…since you're out…and I'm out…well…I guess we'll have to get rid of it all."

She pursed her lips, considering it for a moment. "I like it."

"Me, too. Plus," and he held up the letter, "Toru asked me to."

There was pause, a moment that felt far longer than it was, and then she was in his arms and his were wrapped tight around her. They held nothing back, no tears, no affection.

"No more, Zu-Zu?"

He nuzzled the top of her head.

"No more, Zula."

"I love you, big brother."

"I love you, too, little sister."

It was a long time before they finally managed to part.

* * *

I wrote this all in one go, very quickly, with very little polishing, because that's how I felt Toru did it. I feel like he was in his room, and his mother was telling him it was time to go, and he sat down and jotted it all down and shoved it in his pocket and tried not to feel embarrassed. I put myself in the mind of an eighteen-year-old feeling _feels _that he doesn't fully understand, and went from there. You know, putting your heart out, then trying to act cool and pretend you didn't...that sort of thing.

But enough about that. Because in the next chapter..._more feels. _Stay tuned!


	105. KATARA XX

KATARA

IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. Winter was coming, and there was a sharp chill in the air. The curfew was in full effect; the city was black as pitch, and somewhere, she knew, soldiers barely old enough to shave prowled the streets, suspicion in their eyes. Colonel Kotaro had made his report, made his announcement, written his letter, sent it to his Homeland, but one had only to watch the soldiers' faces to see that every single one seemed to know that something was up, that they weren't be told everything, that their Regiment, _their family, _had been horribly wronged.

_And they were angry about it._

Katara pushed all of that from her mind. There, in the night, lit by only one weak torch, their air bison rested, munching on a pile of hay. Lobsang was up in the pilot's seat, puffing his pipe, watching the proceedings. Azula was already in the saddle, and Sokka, too; Ty Lee and Mai had finally had to leave for Omashu a few days before. Toph and her parents were crying and hugging and kissing, while Zuko sat in a thrown-together wheelchair, looking none too pleased about it.

_And Korra is right in front of me._

Katara was trying very hard not to cry; Korra wasn't trying at all.

Katara was holding Korra's hands. _My daughter's hands. _She was squeezing them hard, and Korra was squeezing right back. She was trying not to look in Korra's eyes; she feared what would happen if she did.

_Gods, I'm so proud of you. You've come so far, and you'll do so many great things._

But she didn't say that. The words wouldn't form. They stuck in the back of her throat, sharp and raw.

"So, I want you to be careful, okay? And stay away from boys, alright?"

Korra cracked a smile through her tears. "Well, you would be the expert on that…"

Katara laughed in spite of herself. "Do as I say, not as I do, dear."

Korra rolled her eyes. "Alright, _Mom._"

That almost did it, that right there. _Mom. _

Katara tried to think of the last time she had called Korra _the Avatar_, even in her head. She came up with a blank.

_Because that's not what she is._

_ She deserves better._

_ I will fight to make that happen._

She hadn't thought about it ahead of time, hadn't talked about, hadn't considered it. Even as she reached for her own neck, unclasped her necklace with fumbling fingers, she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing. She took the necklace from her neck, held it in her hands, and, before she had time to consider a decision she hadn't actually taken, reached out and tied it around Korra's own neck.

Korra didn't seem to know what to do, which, Katara reflected, seemed to be the order of the day. She reached up, touched the stone, ran her fingertips along the fabric of the choker, swallowed hard, looked up at Katara with eyes wide with wonder. "Katara…?"

Katara silenced her with a raised hand. "Don't argue about it, don't try to take it off. It's yours now, okay? I was your age when my mother gave it to me, and now I'm giving it to you."

Korra shook her head. "I…_I can't take this, Katara…"_

Katara threw her arms around the girl, held her close, held her tight. "Yes, _you can. _When my mother gave that to me, she told me it was because, life was life, and she wouldn't always be there when I needed her. But, as long as I felt that necklace around my neck, I would never forget that I was never alone, and that she loved me, always had, and always would." She pulled herself away, held Korra at arm's length. "That's what this means. You're never alone." She reached up, wiped the tears from the girl's eyes. "I'll always love you, I'll never forget you, and _I'm very proud of you._"

Korra was in her arms once more. The girl crushed the breath from Katara's body, held her like she never intended to let her go.

_"I love you, Mom."_

Katara kissed the top of her head. _"I love you, too, Korra._" She smiled, and pressed her mouth into the girl's hair. "Now, get out of here, before I decide to keep you."

Korra gave her one more squeeze, then pulled away, doing nothing to stop her tears. She stopped at Zuko, seemed to consider what to say, shrugged, and threw herself into Zuko's arms. "I'm really sorry about your friends…"

Zuko blinked, and looked to Katara for strength. She smiled, and sent it to him.

"I know," he said, "but that wasn't your fault. Now, listen to Katara, and get going, before we keep you."

Korra gave him a final squeeze, and then she was off, dashing to the air bison and airbending herself up onto the saddle.

Katara was still waving, long after they disappeared from view.

She waited to cry until she was back in their room, curled up in Zuko's arms, and she didn't stop for a long time.

* * *

_Are you feeling the feels yet? Have you taken all you can bear? **TOUGH!**_

Because in the next chapter..._more feels!_


	106. TOPH V

TOPH

IT WAS VERY COLD, BUT SHE DIDN'T CARE. The wind was strong and fierce, but she didn't care. She couldn't believe how much her parents had bundled her up, but, again, _she didn't care._

Because she couldn't stop crying, and, what was more…

_She didn't want to…_

Her mother was holding her face in her hands. She was covering her with kisses, and kept trying to break her back with her embraces.

Toph returned every embrace, holding nothing back.

"Now, you keep warm, okay? And don't forget to eat; don't think I don't know how you get when you're training. And watch out for strangers, okay? Keep your wits about you. And don't forget to keep warm, and please, I know you don't like to, but say your prayers every night, for me, please, or, at least, when you come back, lie and tell me you did…and…and…"

Toph grabbed her mother's face in her hands, and give her a big, wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"I'll be _fine_, Mom. Okay? I love you."

Her mother sniffed, and cried, and covered her with even more kisses.

"I love you, too, baby. I love you so much. You have no idea how proud I am of you."

_Dammit, and I was just about to stop crying…_

"I know, Mom. I'm proud of you guys, too."

Her mother sniffed. "Oh, don't say things like that, I'll never stop crying at this rate…"

There were more kisses and hugs, and then her father had stepped in. He was picking her up and swinging her around and clasping her tight, like he was never going to let her go.

_And, you know what? I don't fucking want him to._

She felt not the least bit of shame for that.

"Promise me you'll be careful, okay? Just…promise me that…"

She held him tight, and she knew he didn't care that she was making it hard for him to breathe.

"I promise, Dad. I'll make you proud."

He laughed, a laugh choked by tears.

"Oh, my sweet, wonderful little girl, you already do, every day."

It was a good half-hour before she finally tore herself away. She was still crying as they took off, still wiping her eyes and waving, praying to all the gods she wasn't quite sure she believed in that she was waving from the right side.

"I didn't know you could cry," Korra observed, settling down beside her and nudging her with her elbow.

Toph scoffed, wiping her nose. "Cry? _Please_. These aren't tears; it's just that my fucking bullshit eyes sprung a leak. They're real assholes like that sometimes."

Another nudge. "Yes, ma'am!"

Toph sniffled, and finally tore herself from the lip of the saddle. "Did anyone see us?"

"I hope not. It's the middle of the night, after all."

"True…was Katara crying as much as she felt like she was?"

"Oh, yeah. And Azula! Talk about the waterworks!"

"So, you were totally crying, too, eh, Avatar?"

"_Were? _Girl, I'm _still _crying. Not all of us are as tough as you."

Toph socked her one in the arm. "And don't you fucking forget it."

"Heh…hey, wanna come sit with me and Lobsang in the pilot's bench?"

"Does a fire-ferret shit in the woods?"

"Well, come on then!"

It was the most magical experience Toph had ever had. The wind even managed to wipe her tears away.

* * *

If you think I'm done, you don't know me. _Next chapter!_


	107. AZULA V

AZULA

THEY WERE AN HOUR INTO THEIR FLIGHT BEFORE SHE SPOKE. It wasn't because she didn't like anyone in the group; it was just that…well…

_My brother's down there, and I'm not yet convinced he can't see him, and I don't want to risk him seeing me and me not seeing him, and…_

She sighed. She knew it was stupid, but she didn't care.

"Hey, girl."

She turned to find Sokka settling down beside him. She turned her back to the lip of the saddle, pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, laid her head back against the lip. "Hey." She heaved a deep, heavy sigh. "You guys never told me how beautiful it was up here."

He chuckled. "Well, to be honest, we don't think about it that way. My sister and I…heh…we actually _hate _flying."

Azula shook her head. "How could you? It's…this is _amazing. Way _better than an airship or a balloon."

Sokka shrugged. "If you say so."

"I do."

They were silent for a time. That was just fine by Azula; the view spread before her eyes was magnificent. They had broken through the clouds, up into the night sky. Stars spread out before her, soaring up and up and up, never ceasing, never ending, an infinite carpet of tiny points of light twinkling in a black-blue velvet bowl.

_Beautiful…_

"Hey, Azula?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask."

"You came out of saying goodbye to Zuko looking a lot happier than when you went in. Why? What did you guys talk about?"

She closed her eyes, and smiled. _A lot of things you wouldn't want to know, my future sister-in-law's big brother, because that's where that's going to end, no matter what my idiot brother says. _"I…we talked about our mother."

"Ah…I thought that would just make you angrier?"

It amazed Azula, how much they had all talked, those endless hours, clustered around Zuko's bedside, waiting for him to get better. At first, it hadn't been so concentrated, but then the Lady Arinori Mai had recovered from her _sudden, unexplainable sickness_, and her and her infamously common _friend _had gone back to Omashu under heavy armed escort, and…well…after that?

_That's when the barriers __**really **__came down._

It made her feel pretty good, actually, to be that open. She had been a little afraid, deep down in places she would never admit existed to anyone but her brother, that, when Mai and Ty Lee left, she would be alone, and never have real friends again. But…well…between Katara, and Sokka?

_I'm going to do just fine._

"So you'd think, but…he explained some things to me, and then he showed me something, something that made me realize it was time to stop being angry, to forgive her, because she didn't deserve that from me."

Beside her, she felt Sokka nodding. "I can understand that. What did he show you?"

"He showed me his sword, the one you went back to the battlefield and got for him."

"Hey, a man needs his sword. What was so special about it?"

"Mom…" She had to take a breath here, and it was hard, though not as hard as it was to not cry. "Mom…she…she had the sword made for him, after he was burned. She had it snuck into his cabin on the ship that brought him over here, how, we don't know. And he had me draw it, and look at the message that was written on it."

She paused, and waited for him to speak, because she was still a bit of a princess at heart, and she always loved a nice bit of dramatics.

"Well…what did it say?"

She opened her eyes, eyes clear and bright and full of wonder at a sky she had never imagined was so beautiful.

"It said…_Never Give Up._"

"That…that's beautiful."

She smiled.

"I know."

* * *

If your heart didn't break a little bit for the Lady Ursa there, you're dead inside.

Moving on!


	108. KATARA XXI

KATARA

IN AN ISOLATED ROOM IN AN ISOLATED CORNER OF THE BEI FONG MANSION, A ROOM FULL OF OFFICERS DRESSED IN SCARLET AND BLACK ROSE AS ONE, AND BOWED. She smiled, and returned the bow, just as Zuko had taught her. They resumed their seats, sitting in that strange, rigid way, on the front edges of their chairs, silent, attentive.

_Waiting…_

She smiled.

_Like a room full of Zukos…_

"Good evening, gentlemen."

Beside her, a translator began to speak.

"Good evening, Lady Katara," came the reply.

She bowed her head, and launched into her speech.

"Many of you, no doubt, are wondering why I'm here, why I'm the one talking to you. Shouldn't it be your Colonel, who's sitting right here, by my side? At least _he _wouldn't need a translator trailing his every word, right? Or…maybe it should be one of you? Or…maybe…just maybe…it should be a certain prince, whom you all know, and, from what I hear, all love, and whom none of you are really convinced is actually dead."

She paused, and let that sink in. There was a nervous twitter that rippled through the room, a release of energy, of tension. She had, without explicitly doing so, just confirmed everything they believed, everything they whispered in their hearts, every rumor that circulated through the ranks of the Ninety-Fourth like wildfire. She let it go on, right up until the Colonel cleared his throat, bringing about instant silence.

She bowed her head to the Colonel. "Thank you, Colonel."

He bowed his head back. "My pleasure, my lady. Please, continue."

She turned back to the assembly.

"The truth is, even if said prince _wasn't _dead, he would be still recovering from his wounds. Were he alive, regardless of his wounds, he would come and speak to you this evening. Alas, he is unlucky enough to be having his wounds tended by a very skilled, very talented waterbender, who happens to be his girlfriend, and who, according to him, and, I think I'm quoting him here, _Can be a real bitch when it comes to getting her way."_

That brought a chorus of laughter, and more than a few wolf-whistles and cheers.

"So, sorry to say, you're going to have to deal with an uncultured barbarian tonight, though, I'm sure you'll all manage. But, that's not what's important, is it? What's important is, _What are we going to do? When is this war going to end? When do we all get to go home? And, crazy lady, just when the hell are we going to do something about spoiled rotten little pricks who call themselves __**Crown Princes **__thinking they can knock off any officer who looks at them the wrong way?"_

She spread her hands, and they all leaned forward, and she knew she had them.

"These are the questions, aren't they, the million-_yen _questions? _What are we going to do? Has our great nation really come to this? How long are we going to fight a war we can't win, in a country we don't belong in? How many more letters am I going to have to write? When can I stop breaking mothers' hearts?"_

That was one she _really _stopped to let sink in. It hit home, and she saw it. She saw it in their eyes, in their faces, in the way a little bit of the life went out of the room.

"Well, gentlemen, I have an answer for you. And the answer isn't more princes, more Fire Lords, _none of that. _The answer, quite simply, is two words:

"_No. More."_

At the end of her speech, when all the questions had been answered, and they were firmly in her power, she disappeared for a bit. When she returned, she was holding Zuko's hand. He leaned on her, on her and on the cane she wouldn't let him leave bed without.

The cheers…_the cheers were deafening. _But that wasn't the best part.

No, the best part came when the chanting started.

They didn't chant names, no, that's not what this was about. This was about not bowing to names or faces anymore. This was about carving a new path. This was about finally standing up to millennia of tyranny, of oppression, of blood and death and slaughter.

This was about saying exactly what they were chanting.

_No more!_

_ No more!_

_**No more!**_

_** NO MORE!**_

_** NO! MORE!**_

Zuko and her slipped away a couple of weeks later. He was finally well enough to ride an ostrich-horse, though not without her glaring at him, reminding him to take it easy.

They stopped at a hill, the final rise before Gaoling disappeared from view. They looked back, their mounts side-by-side, hands clasped, and gave it one, last, final look.

He closed his eye, and his lips began to move. There was no sound at first, then words came, like the wind whistling through the trees. She knew it was praying, even if it was in a language she, as yet, barely understood. She knew the names. They were seared into her heart. _Ryu. Yukawa. The Captain. Tsurukawa. _The tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. _Toru. _She felt his pain in her heart, had felt it every day. _Toru. _She knew he missed them. _Toru. _She missed them, too. _Toru. _

She smiled at him. "Say a prayer for me."

He started speaking. His voice was far away, as if it was coming to her from the end of a long tunnel, like the ones Oma and Shu eternally wandered, eternally seeking each other.

_Oma and Shu. _She swallowed a giggle. _Zuko and Katara. I like it._

"At the Academy," he said, "there's a temple. Well…less a temple, and more like a shrine. It doesn't have any priests attached to it, and it's very plain, unadorned, very old. Fire Lord Ieyasu himself – the guy who came after Fire Lord Meiji, the guy who established the Academy – had it built, came down from Miyako to dedicate it. The inside walls were made of stone, no decorations, just stone. He brought in earthbenders to get them as smooth as possible. Any time a graduate of the Academy falls in the course of their duties, their name goes on the wall. A flame burns in the center of the floor. When a new class graduates, they put it out, and it's the duty of whoever graduates in the top spot to rekindle it."

He pauses, takes a deep breath, lets it out. She squeezes his hand. He squeezes back.

"I'll never forget, when we were getting ready to graduate, Toru and I went in there. It is the duty of whoever graduates second to help the first prepare. There's a whole ritual, and a ceremony, and you have this whole speech you have to make, and…and I'm standing there, I'm so nervous I could cry, and Toru's wandering around, looking at all the names. I look up at him, and I say, _You know, we could be on that wall, before too long. _And he just threw back his head and laughed. _What? We'll never end up on this wall. That's not our fate._"

He sighs.

"I laughed with him. He was my friend, the best friend I'd ever had, and we laughed, because, come on, you only ended up on that wall if you died, and we? _We were never going to die._ We were too young, too smart, to die. We had _destinies. _People with destinies don't end up carved into rock on the walls of shrines."

He turned to her, opening his eye. There was light in his eyes, even the dead one. She swooned.

She felt no shame in admitting it, even to herself.

"You have a destiny," she said. She wasn't entirely sure where the words came from, but somehow, it didn't matter.

He chuckled. "No. _We _have a destiny. We owe it to them, _to all of them_. I owe it to Toru."

"And yourself."

He rolled his eyes.

"Just so you know, I'm still falling in love with you, Katara."

She giggled.

"Good, because I'm still falling in love with you, too, Zuko."

Then they leaned over and kissed, and took their time, before finally breaking apart and heading off into a new world.

* * *

And that's it for the feels, but not for the story. There's just a final piece of business to take care of...

In the next chapter, I totally bogart a scene from the show. What can I say? For all of its flaws, it was a kickass show. Stay tuned!


	109. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

HIS NAME WAS MATSUURA JIRO. He was twenty-three-years-old. He was just returned from a tour of duty in the frontlines of the Earth Kingdom, first with a regular unit, then two years with the infamous Rough Rhinos. He had only returned home for a bit of leave, before renewing his enlistment and heading off again.

He stood at attention, resplendent in his officer's uniform. Every button gleamed, and his chest was covered in medals. He was tall, fit, plain-looking, but in a handsome sort of way.

He was, the Fire Lord was forced to admit, everything his son was not.

"Jiro, is that you?"

Jiro bowed. "It is, Your Majesty."

"Come in, come in. Come, join me by the fire."

The young man did just that. The Fire Lord was seated in a very comfortable chair, before a roaring fire, puffing on a pipe. From time-to-time, he would reach out, manipulate the flames, make them do this, then that, so that the fire always burned evenly, and never faltered. This, the Fire Lord did without thinking.

Jiro was quite impressed.

"Jiro," the Fire Lord said, eyes locked on the fire, a tea cup in his hand, "do you know your full family history?"

Jiro nodded, sitting upright in his chair, ignoring how comfortable it was. He sipped his own tea, and looked deep into the flames. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Tell me."

Jiro did not hesitate. He was not the kind of man to shrink from the truth, no matter how ugly or inconvenient.

"My father is the bastard son of your father, Your Majesty, one of many. Your father, may the gods watch over his soul, was of the habit of sending his illegitimate sons to the Academy. My father, as it happened, excelled, and had a fine, stellar military career."

"Which is why I ennobled him."

"Quite, Your Majesty."

"Indeed…and why I sponsored your own entry into the Academy."

"For which I thank you, Your Majesty."

"There are no thanks required. You earned it. You were classmates with my nephew, were you not?"

Jiro made a face. "I was, Your Majesty. His death…it cut me deeply. I gave offerings for his soul when I heard." His voice was flat, empty, as it always was, but that didn't mean he wasn't being sincere.

The Fire Lord nodded, and sighed. "It hurt us all, Jiro; none in the Royal Family have escaped the stain his treatment has left upon us."

Jiro bowed his head. "As you say, Your Majesty."

"Indeed…Jiro, do you know why I called you here tonight?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"I called you here because my son has failed me, in a most grotesque manner. I won't go into details now, but suffice it to say, he is no longer worthy of succeeding me upon the throne. Before…before my nephew fell in…_in battle…_I actually fully intended to recall him to the Palace, and begin grooming him to be my heir."

"Having known Zuko, I can say it would've been a fine choice."

"I agree, but that is neither here nor there. As it is, I am an old man, and I need an heir, someone strong, brave, and true, who is not afraid to wield both the velvet glove and the iron fist, and has the wisdom to know which is called for when."

"I'm not sure I follow, Your Majesty."

"I am thinking that person should be you."

"You…you honor me beyond my worth, Your Majesty."

"Perhaps…that is why I will require you to pass a test."

"Anything, Your Majesty."

"Find the Avatar. Find my niece. Bring them to me."

"Alive, Your Majesty?"

"If at all possible."

Jiro didn't have to think about it very long.

"It would be an honor, Your Majesty."

"Yes," the Fire Lord said, "I thought you might say that. You are dismissed; come see me in the morning."

Jiro set aside his tea cup, rose, and bowed.

"As Your Majesty commands."

And he went.

He managed to hold back his smile until he was back in his room. He had learned long ago not to let anyone see how he smiled.

**END OF BOOK ONE**


	110. A Quick Note

A QUICK WORD BEFORE YOU LEAVE

**NOTE: FEEL FREE TO NOT READ THIS. I MEAN IT. I'M JUST ANSWERING SOME QUESTIONS BEFORE THEY'RE. IF YOU HAVE NO QUESTIONS THAT CAN'T WAIT A FEW WEEKS, BY ALL MEANS, IGNORE THIS.**

Alright, now that _that's _out of the way, we can move on!

As you may have guessed from the title, this has merely been _Book One _of a broader epic. I've already begun work on Book Two; it is almost completely plotted out, I have a solid character list (and their story arcs worked out), and I've written the first chapter. I really like how this fic came together; I'm ridiculously proud of it. Thus, I'm going to do the same thing, in that I'm going to wait to start posting until at _least _half of it is written. Book Two shouldn't be _quite _as long as Book One, so, if all goes well, you'll be seeing Book Two within three-to-four weeks, definitely by the first week of March.

What can you expect in Book Two? _A lot. _There will be feels; there will be tragedy; there will be _major character death. _Not all of our viewpoint characters will survive to Book Three, and I feel no qualms in telling you that no one is safe.

You'll also see some surprising faces from all over the Avatar-verse, so keep your eyes peeled.

One thing I would like to see, is some suggestions from you guys. What would you like to see? Do you have an predictions? I'm honestly telling you that you might very well be able to influence the course of Book Two. Not _hugely_, but sometimes my fans are smarter than me, and I freely acknowledge that. A big question would be: What pairings are you imagining right now? Because many of those are still very much up in the air. Sound off!

But enough about that. This is too long, and I'm afraid of revealing too much. And besides…

_I have work to do._

I'm not going to do a full acknowledgments section, because _this isn't the end. _Still, I must, as always, thank my lovely wife, who encourages me every step of the way. I must also thank God, because I'm a good little Catholic boy at heart, and my Mom, in case she ever reads this.

And, last but never least, I must thank you, my readers. This wouldn't be possible without you.

So, that's all! In the next chapter, we will be seeing a face we don't particularly want to see, and hoping that he answers some goddamn questions for once. Stay tuned!


	111. A Brief Announcement

_**BOOK TWO IS LIVE!**_

_**CHECK IT OUT!**_

* * *

Seriously, go do it. The prologue is up. Subscribe, and get ready for a wild ride.


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